Freefall
by Exotic-Dreams
Summary: Some people are born to be heroes. Some people seek glory and relish responsibility. Artemis Silvermist is not one of those people. After travelling to Skyrim, however, she'll be forced into the role she never sought out. With nobody there to hold her hand how will she cope with her quiet life falling apart at the seams?
1. Waking Nightmare

**A/N:** Hello everyone. It's been a year since I was introduced to the wonder of the Elder Scrolls games, and I don't know what I really did with life before them at all! So, being overly obsessed, I wanted to share the story of my Dovahkiin, Artemis the tiny but tough Breton!

This story will start out following the main quest line quite closely, but I promise you it goes very off script as we get further into it!

Of course, I wouldn't even be posting this if it weren't for my wonderful and insightful beta, xQueen Nothingx. Thank you so much for helping me give Artemis a voice, and making sure it's ready to be heard. You've done an amazing job, and I do apologise for the hours of your life I've stolen from you!

**Disclaimer:** Skyrim and its loveable characters are all belong to Bethesda.

* * *

_No one to call_

_Everybody to fear_

_Your tragic fate is looking so clear, yeah_

_Oh, it's your fucking nightmare_

_Avenged Sevenfold - Nightmare_

_**Chapter One - Waking Nightmare**_

* * *

Ulfric pulled his hands agitatedly against the binds that circled his wrists. He was beyond angry. Truth be told, he was wild with fury! If he ever saw that damned traitor that had led them to this predicament, he'd kill the bastard with his bare hands. But, there didn't seem like much chance of that happening, since he was currently bound, gagged, and sitting among his brothers in arms in this damned Imperial camp and set to be executed the following morning.

Oh, it had been a nice thought that they could deal with the arriving General before he even made it to Solitude. Tullius, the decorated General from Cyrodiil, was scheduled to arrive in Skyrim on 16th of Last Seed, and the Stormcloaks were supposed to be waiting for him. The information, obviously, had been false. Rather than the Stormcloaks awaiting the Legion, the Legion had set up an ambush for Ulfric Stormcloak and his men. Now they were prisoners to the Imperial bastards.

Ulfric snarled against his gag restlessly. Oh, the Imperials had seen to it that the Voice would be a non-factor as soon as they'd secured Ulfric. Damned cowards. Now, he could do little more than glare at the patrolling Legionnaires as they walked passed him and his men. It was going to be a long, cold night. At least the Stormcloaks were accustomed to the climate.

She was pretty, beautiful even. This little Breton had caught his eye as soon as he'd been placed across from her in the cart. Her dark, shoulder length tresses covered half of her face and gleamed enchantingly in the sunlight. They showed flecks of deep brown, contrasting stunningly with the soft ivory skin that was visible under her thin tunic. Her chest rose and fell gracefully as she slept, curled up against the cold, shivering slightly, but otherwise not a care in the world. She seemed as if she were completely unaware that she was a prisoner of war.

This young girl had not been present the night before, when the Stormcloaks had fallen prey to the Legion. No, she was definitely a new addition to the party, and Ralof wondered where they had picked her up, and why?

The Breton posed no threat, shivering against the freezing climate. wearing only a thin tunic for sleeping. Had she been caught up in the wake of the Stormcloaks while she tried to cross the border? He felt a twinge of pity as he watched her try to curl into a tighter ball against the cold.

Ralof kept his eyes on her as the carts jolted into motion. He had been watching her for a while now, and yes, she was very pretty, but that wasn't what kept his gaze trained on her thin form. No, there was something _different_ about this girl. Something special. He couldn't explain it, but her presence demanded his attention, in a way that overpowered even Ulfric Stormcloak's mighty pull.

The thought caused him to look at his leader, the Jarl of Windhelm. Ulfric looked at the girl as well, but his blue eyes showed only disdain. Of course, she was a Breton by appearance, and who could forget Ulfric's opinion of Bretons?

But this girl didn't resemble any Foresworn that Ralof had ever seen. The Foresworn were wild, filthy beasts. This girl was well kept and soft looking, like a domestic woman kept sheltered from the horrors of the world.

The hours passed slowly as the company made its way towards Helgen, and Ralof was still watching the girl intently. Her ability to sleep through the cold and the noise astounded him, but she did eventually stir. One eye opened a fraction, revealing a sliver of dazzling, pale blue. She peeked around out of that lidded eye momentarily before sitting straight as both of her eyes snapped open. Her full, cherry red lips parted ever so slightly as she looked around in alarm.

* * *

The sound of horseshoes and turning wheels, crunching on fresh snow, could be heard over the gentle calls of the native birds. It was so very cold, the chill from the air seeping right into my bones, making me shiver. A typical morning in Skyrim, no less. The province was known for its wintry climate.

I hoped whoever was passing with their horses would leave my camp undisturbed, as I curled further into myself to tried to warm up. My usually soft bed roll was unnaturally hard, and really felt nothing at all like a bed roll. Furrowing my brow, I cracked an eye open against the bright white of the morning sun. Shock pulled me the rest of the way into consciousness, having suddenly found myself sitting slumped against the side of a wooden cart in my thin sleep tunic.

Blinking, I sat up a bit straighter and looked around properly. I took note that my hands were bound, causing my stomach to do an uncomfortable flip. There was another cart in front of mine, and a couple of horses rode beside each of the wooden carts as they trundled along the beaten path.

The riders, and drivers, of the carts were clearly Legion soldiers, their red and gold armour clinking and gleaming in the morning sunlight, standing out boldly against the whites and greys of the surrounding scenery. This did nothing to ease the pounding of my heart, as I remembered running into a pair of Imperial soldiers.

They had come around dawn, just after I crossed the border. Memories of the incident were vague, and I found that I could only recall the word spy being chucked around a lot, then my mind was blank. The slight headache I had suggested that the soldiers used force to knock me out.

"You're finally awake," someone addressed me, his deep baritone capturing my attention. It was one of the prisoners in my cart, sitting directly across from me. A Nord man, judging by his burly stature and braided fair hair. He had a rough look about him, muscular with thick, coarse stubble.

Despite the rugged surface, his sparkling blue eyes showed warmth and kindness and his features were creased into a gentle, welcoming smile. His overall appearance was very handsome, and had I not been so uncertain about where I was, I would have taken more time to appreciate his looks.

"Where am I, how did I get here?" I squeaked, looking around wildly. None of the surrounding terrain looked familiar, and I was willing to wager I was nowhere near my camp.

"They must have picked you up crossing the border," the blond Nord mused.

_But, crossing the border isn't against the law, is it? _I thought to myself, taking a moment to fathom the predicament.

In the space of my silence, the blond Nord continued, "Might have walked straight into that Imperial ambush, just like us and that thief."

My eyes were drawn to another prisoner, another Nord prisoner. He had dark, untidy hair and dirt smeared across his tanned skin. He wasn't as intimidating in appearance compared to the first Nord, being of a much narrower build. His dark eyes settled on the first man, in the form of a glare.

I noticed he was wearing a simple, albeit dirty, tunic, unlike the handsome blue and gold armour that the blond Nord wore.

"If it wasn't for you damn Stormcloaks, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now," the thief snapped at the Stormcloak.

Then his eyes then fell on me, and I shifted uncomfortably as he leaned forward.

"You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these damn Stormcloaks the Empire wants." He continued.

"Shut up back there!" the driver of our cart called impatiently.

"What's wrong with him, huh?" the thief asked, clearly ignoring the driver.

I followed his eyes to the fourth and final occupant of my cart. I couldn't make out the man's face completely, since he was hunched over and angled away from me. He seemed to be of a similar build to the fair Nord, maybe slightly bigger. It was hard to tell because he wore a thick, handsome fur that hid most of his physique. From his profile I could see the strong brow and jaw, and the slightly hooked nose. I could also see he was gagged, and he tossed his head restlessly against the rag, glaring at the thief.

"Watch your tongue," the first Nord rumbled, suddenly hostile, "You're talking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."

The thief and I exchanged startled looks, and I wondered if my eyes were as wide as his. Probably not, I didn't know who this Ulfric Stormcloak was. I just figured, if he was being referred to as the true 'High King,' then this was not a good situation to be in. The thief seemed to agree.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Windhelm and leader of the rebellion... but, if they've captured you... oh Gods, where are they taking us?" he cried.

Rebellion? Jarl? What chaotic mess had I unknowingly stumbled into when I decided to come to Skyrim? I may as well have gone back to High Rock, though the thought was followed by a surge of bitterness.

"I don't know where we're heading, but Sovngarde awaits," the blond Nord replied sombrely, settling down again. I didn't have the vaguest idea what Sovngarde was, but it didn't sound like the kind of place I wanted to visit, judging by the thief's reaction.

He twisted in his seat, looking around wildly for an opportunity to exit. The panic rolled off of him in waves as a sheen of sweat built up on his face, which seemed sickly pale.

I wished I could have said something to calm him down, just so he would stop adding to my nerves, but my heart was already crammed in my throat, making speech impossible.

"What village are you from, horse thief?" the blond Nord asked calmly, obviously succeeding where I had failed, "A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

There was a pause as the thief took a deep, calming breath, "R-Rorikstead. I'm from Rorikstead." He seemed to put all his focus into these words, stopping his wild fidgeting as he closed his eyes to obviously think of his home town.

Silence fell in the cart as it rumbled slowly into a village. I was watching the thief from Rorikstead as he muttered under his breath, his eyes shut tight against reality. As I watched him, I thought briefly of my own home, of my family back in High Rock. The family I hadn't seen since my fifteenth birthday. I wondered if they missed me still, or if they had moved on. My mother probably still held hope that I'd come home, but my father would have moved on quickly. He had always preferred my sister, anyway.

"This is Helgen." The deep baritone of the blond Nord tugged me from my thoughts, and caused me to look around at the village. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here," he reminisced.

I took in the unhappy grey scale village. It was small and had a very cold feeling to it. The only colours within the village were the red and gold uniforms of the Imperial soldiers and the blue and gold uniforms of their Stormcloak prisoners. Some people in the village were watching us pass from their small, run-down homes, their eyes accusing me of crimes I had never committed. I even noticed a young boy being dragged back inside by his father as he pleaded to stay and watch.

"Why are we stopping?" the thief cried, his eyes bulging, as the cart shuddered coming to a stop in what appeared to be the centre of the village. There was a lone tower and a small band of Imperials waiting for us in this wide clearing.

"Why do you think, horse thief?" the blond Nord asked, quirking a brow at the shaking thief, "End of the line."

He was right, and I knew that when we had first come to a stop, but it was confirmed for us when we were instructed to get out of the cart.

"Come on, shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us," the blond Nord said grimly to me, as we both made to stand.

I knew he had tried for humour, but it was really lost on both of us. I appreciated his attempt none the less.

An Imperial woman and a Nord man stood waiting for us. The tall, burly Nord wore the red and gold of the Imperial Legion, and held a roll of paper in his hands. The smaller Imperial woman was wearing an absurd amount of heavy Legion armour, glaring at us with hard eyes from beneath her helmet as she barked at us to move to the block when our names were called.

The blond Nord next to me scoffed about the list, but the list provided me with a small flutter of hope. I was sure I hadn't done anything wrong, and therefore couldn't be on the list with these prisoners. It was a small hope, but a hope all the same.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," was the first name the Legionnaire Nord called from the list. The haughty looking Jarl walked with his head held high as he moved towards the small group forming at the block.

"It has been an honour, Jarl Ulfric," the blond Nord murmured from next to me.

"Ralof of Riverwood," was the next to be called. This turned out to be the blond Nord. He gave me a steady look before joining his leader at the block.

I missed his presence immediately. I didn't know anything about him, had only just learned that his name was Ralof, but he had shown me a great deal of kindness when we were in that cart. He was the only real sense of warmth or stability I had experienced so far in Skyrim.

"Lokir of Rorikstead." This was the thief.

"No, I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!" Lokir cried earnestly, stumbling forward. He was shaking from head to foot as he looked between the two Imperial soldiers. I couldn't see his face, but I could imagine that his eyes were pleading the Imperials to spare him. The Imperials didn't look too sympathetic, however. Lokir must have realised this as well, because suddenly he launched past the Imperial woman.

"Halt!" the woman shouted as he pushed past her. It was no good, though. "Archers!" she shouted, watching the thief as he sprinted for freedom. I felt ice grip my heart as the unmistakable whistling of arrows sailing through the air reached my ears. Horror stricken, I watched as several of the arrows pierced Lokir's back. With no armour to protect him against the attack, he fell to the floor within seconds of the first arrow hitting its mark.

_Bastards!_ my mind screamed in outrage. They could have easily apprehended the poor thief, instead they chose to make an example of him to the rest of us.

"Anyone else feel like running?" the woman sneered, her hard eyes resting on me.

"Wait," the Nord soldier said suddenly, his eyes also settling upon me, but his were warm and curious, rather than hard and taunting. He waved me towards him, looking down at his list again, causing his russet hair to fall gracefully into his eyes as his brow pinched. "Who are you?" he inquired, looking back up at me and tilting his head a fraction.

_Praise Mara!_ I wasn't on that list. I knew I couldn't possibly be. I looked up into the Nord's warm, bronze eyes and swallowed hard, trying to push the lump down long enough to answer him.

"A-Artemis Silvermist of High Rock," I stammered, my voice barely audible.

"You from Daggerfall, Breton?" the Nord asked curiously, since I had named my province rather than my village, "Fleeing some court intrigue?"

I gave a firm shake of my head. I wasn't from Daggerfall, and I certainly had no place in the court; I'd made sure of that when I was a youth. I felt a little irked about the assumption that just because I was a Breton, I was involved in some political mess.

"Sorry," the Nord apologised glancing at his list again but with unseeing eyes, he seemed sincere, "What do we do, Captain? She's not on the list."

The Captain was the Imperial woman with too much armour. My fate rested with her. I silently sent my prayers to the Nine as she looked down her nose at me, considering me briefly.

"Forget the list," she said almost immediately. "She goes to the block." _Gods damn it!_

"I'm sorry, we'll make sure your remains are returned to High Rock," the Nord told me, his eyes downcast as he indicated for me to join the others at the block.

Great, just perfect. At least my mother would get closure, finally, and my father would easily believe I was a common criminal.

I walked numbly to the group of Stormcloaks surrounding the block and stood next to Ralof again.

I felt so small in the group, being dwarfed by all the Nord men. I hardly came up to most of their shoulders. Ulfric Stormcloak was standing in front of his men, staring down at a greying Imperial soldier that was speaking to him. This Imperial, much like me, was easily dwarfed by the Nord. If I wasn't in line for execution, I would have laughed at the image.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," the Imperial soldier sneered up at the Nord, "Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

Ulfric made a snarl against his gag as he glared down at the Imperial.

"You started this war, sending Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace," the Imperial snapped at Ulfric. Murdered kings? Usurped thrones? Oh Gods, this was just as bad as living in High Rock!

A distant, terrifying, roaring sound interrupted the one sided conversation, startling everyone. Fear took a new, icy grip on my chest making it difficult to breathe, as heads turned in every direction, most looking skyward, for the source of the frightening noise. "What was that?" someone asked nervously.

"It was nothing, carry on," the greying Imperial rumbled, turning his attention away from Ulfric.

"Yes, General Tullius," the heavily armoured Captain saluted, springing into immediate action. She waved a young priestess forward, and told her to, "read them their last rites."

The young priestess stepped forward, her face obscured by the soft hood of her robes, and spread her arms to the heavens as she started speaking, "_As we commend your souls to Aetherius_, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn-"

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" a Stormcloak with fiery hair snarled over the priestess as he marched forward, ready to meet his fate.

"As you wish," the priestess said, her voice clipped and cold as she folded her arms and turned her back on us all.

The Nord that had interrupted stood before the chopping block, his head held high in a manner of defiance. The shorter Captain stood behind him and shoved him hard in his back so that he fell to his knees, before she placed her steel boot on his back and forced his head down to meet the block.

"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" the Nord asked, showing no signs of fear in the face of his death.

My stomach churned uncomfortably as the executioner lifted his axe above his head. As the blade came crashing down, I closed my eyes and turned my head away. I couldn't cover my ears with my bound hands, though, so I heard the sickening crunch of metal on bone and the tell tale _thud _that informed me that the deed was done.

"As fearless in death as he was in life," Ralof said proudly from my side.

"Next, the Breton," the Captain barked.

I turned my face back to the block and gaped at the Captain. She hadn't even bothered with my name. My heart was pounding so hard already, and it almost burst through my ribs as the roaring from earlier sounded again, from a lot closer this time. I felt as though someone had dumped a bucket of icy water over my head, and it was freezing me from the inside out.

Once again every eye turned skyward, except the Captain who shouted, "I said _next prisoner_."

I tried to swallow as I jerked forward, but my throat was so dry that I ended up coughing instead. The short distance seemed to take an eternity to cross, but eventually I was standing before the block. I looked down at the body of the Nord, which hadn't been moved other than to be kicked to the side. As the captain shoved me down the, metallic smell of blood stung my nose. I was pushed forward, over the block, and I was revolted to see the dead eyes of the fiery haired Nord staring up at me from the box. They hadn't even emptied the box. Would my head even fit in there with his?

Unable to stand the sight any longer, I fought the bile threatening to expel itself and turned my head to face the executioner. He was raising his axe above his head already. It was now or never to make peace with my Gods, I thought, closing my eyes.

"What in Oblivion is that?" someone shouted, sounding terrified. I heard the roar and my eyes snapped open. The executioner was standing with his axe still raised, but staring dumbfounded at the tower behind him. It didn't take much to see why. Sitting there, looking down at us with its horrible orange eyes, was a gigantic beast, with huge leathery black wings and spiky scales covering its reptilian body. _A dragon_.

* * *

**AN: **Well, I know it was very close to the game, but I hope it captured some interest and you'll be back for chapter 2! Please review and let me know what you think.


	2. Escape

**A/N:** Thanks to the few people who read and reviewed the first chapter. I appreciate it. I know it's a slow start, and again I'm very sorry, but I hope you'll stick around to see where it goes.

Thanks again to my beta, xQueen Nothingx, for helping me along the way. Your efforts mean so much to me.

**Disclaimer: **Skyrim belongs to Bethesda.

* * *

_We have to find a better way_

_Out of this tragedy_

_As the battle rages on_

_Blood stains the ground we're on_

_My ears hear only screams_

_Brave soldiers are dying_

_Escape the Fate - This War Is Ours_

_**Chapter Two - Escape**_

* * *

Chaos broke out immediately. I could hear the screaming and shouting as people started to run, but I was left staring up at the Dragon that had perched itself on the tower.

The dragon stared back at me and flicked its sharp tail into a building, causing it to cave, before it opened its jaws to roar, issuing a horrible, cracking noise. The sky darkened, turning a deep orange as the world around us shook. Fireballs started to fall from the sky, destroying everything in sight. The Imperials had scattered, leaving me helpless on the ground before the dragon. I wanted to scream for someone to help me, but I was frozen with a fear I had never experienced before.

Still gawking up at the fierce creature, I was vaguely of someone grabbing my upper arm and dragging me to my feet.

"Get up," the person urged me, dragging me away from the dragon. I tore my eyes away from it to look at my saviour. It was Ralof, the blond Nord. His hands were no longer bound, but I didn't have time to fixate on the minor details.

"Come on, the Gods won't give us another chance, this way!" Ralof dragged me across the clearing towards a nearby structure. The fireballs crashed into the stone buildings and ground around us as we ran. When we reached the door of the building, Ralof pushed me through the door and slammed it shut behind him. I stumbled into the centre of the room, taking in the horrible sight of the wounded Stormcloak soldier slumped on the ground at the foot of a spiral staircase.

"Jarl Ulfric, what was that?" Ralof asked urgently, drawing my attention away from the wounded soldier. "Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages," came the response. The Jarl now stood at his full height, his hands unbound and no gag restricting his deep, honeyed voice. He looked so brave and calm, standing by the door, holding an air of proud confidence even in the terrifying circumstances. I could see why Ralof would look up to him.

"We need to move. Now!" Ulfric commanded us, pointing to the stairs as the sounds of the chaos outside grew louder.

I followed Ralof, hoping my trembling wouldn't cause my knees to give out beneath me, as I scrambled up the stairs at command. We didn't make it very far, though. On the second landing, the wall burst apart just as Ralof reached it. He threw his arm out to stop me running forward, winding me as I ran into his hard forearm. He caught me round the middle as my legs gave way, and pulled me with him as he pressed his body against the wall, yelling for the others to get back.

As he yelled, a blast of fire came through the hole right beside us, singing my hair slightly. When he was sure we could move up again, Ralof dragged me up to the hole. We could no longer move up, but he looked for another option.

"See that Inn across the way?" He indicated to the smouldering ruins of what used to be an Inn, "Jump through the roof and run. We'll follow when we can!"

I hesitated for a moment, unwilling to leave Ralof's side, but he yelled for me to go again, so I leapt across the gap and rolled across the second floor of the Inn. I looked back up at Ralof when I had my feet, catching the wave for me to run, so I did. I jumped down to the ground floor and ran as fast as I could manage, my heart hammering in my chest as adrenaline coursed through my veins.

When I cleared the Inn, I ran into a small group of people. I recognized the Nord that had asked my name, but as I charged towards him the dragon landed. On instinct, the Nord grabbed me and a small boy, promptly shoving us behind cover.

"Everyone, get back!" he shouted as the dragon opened its mouth and shot a torrent of fire at us before taking flight again, "Still alive, prisoner? Stay close to me if you want to stay that way," the Nord told me before turning to another man, "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defence."

"Gods guide you, Hadvar," the old man said as we set off running.

I followed Hadvar obediently through the lane, staying close as he instructed. The scene that met us was horrible, like something from a nightmare. The run-down buildings were replaced with smouldering wrecks, there were bodies littering the lane-way, and the smell of smoke and burnt flesh filled the air, making it difficult to breathe.

Hadvar led me down a narrow alley as the dragon swooped over us. He grabbed my arm, andpushed me into the wall as it landed above us and breathed its horrible fire breath again, causing sickening screams of pain to pierce my ears. When the dragon took flight again, Hadvar led me through a burning house and into another lane-way where some Thalmor soldiers were using their magic to fight the dragon. They paid us no mind as Hadvar led me past them and away from the dragon.

"We need to get into the keep," he shouted to me over the chaotic explosions of the fireballs and Thalmor attacks. He pointed ahead of us, to a large stone structure. That was our goal. As we ran across the clearing towards it, I felt a brief wave of relief wash over me as Ralof and another Stormcloak came hurtling from the other direction, also heading for the keep.

"Ralof, you damn traitor!" Hadvar shouted angrily as we got closer. The two men stopped short, Hadvar's arm shooting out to stop me moving forward as they glared at one another with genuine hatred. "Out of my way!"

"We're escaping, Hadvar," Ralof growled in retaliation, his sapphire eyes holding only venom as they burned into Hadvar's. "You're not stopping us this time!"

"Fine!" Hadvar snarled. "I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde! With me, prisoner, let's go!" Before I could say anything to Ralof, Hadvar had grabbed my arm and dragged me towards the keep.

I looked back at Ralof, who watched me for a moment before he and his companion hurried towards a different door. Hadvar pushed me through the door of the keep, much like Ralof had earlier, and slammed the door behind us. When I turned to face him he was doubled over, hands on his knees, panting.

"Looks like we're the only ones that made it," he panted after a long pause, before standing up straight again. "Here, let me cut your bindings."

I held out my hands for him to cut the binds, "Thanks," I breathed, flexing my wrists once I was free, revelling in the freedom. I looked around the dark room curiously as Hadvar walked away from me. It looked like sleeping quarters. There were a couple of beds, some trunks, and tables. Hadvar was rummaging through one of the trunks.

"What are you doing?" I asked, watching him curiously.

He walked back to me and presented me with a set of armour just like his. "Put these on," he instructed, turning away from me again and walking over to a weapon rack in the corner.

I followed his instructions, pulling off the thin tunic I had been wearing and pulling the armour on instead. The armour was leather, so it was fairly light, but it was much too big for me.

"Here." Hadvar was back, and handing me a sword, "Give that a few swings," he instructed. The sword was heavy and awkward.

I had only ever dealt with daggers while travelling. I swung the sword haphazardly into one of the bed posts.

Hadvar cringed at the spectacle, but said, "Not bad. Come on."

"Where are we going?" I asked quietly as we jogged down the damp stone corridors.

"We need to get out of Helgen," Hadvar replied firmly. "The safest way is through the keep."

"Right," I said.

He led me through a series of corridors before we found our first lot of Stormcloaks. The pair of them were talking quietly as we approached them, but as soon as they saw us they drew their weapons.

Hadvar took care of the male quite easily, but the female was backing me into a corner, swinging her weapon expertly while I tried desperately to block it with my heavy sword. Luckily, Hadvar came up behind her and slit her throat with his own blade, splattering her hot, sticky blood across my face, making my stomach churn uncomfortably, before we continued on our way.

The next group of people we ran into were Imperial soldiers, an old torturer and his much younger assistant. Hadvar tried to convince to torturer to come with us, but he didn't believe there was a dragon attacking and said he'd take his chances.

I was quietly pleased that he refused to come with us; he was kind of creepy. His assistant followed us, happy to get away from his mentor, I assumed.

The three of us ran into a group of Stormcloaks shortly after, and Hadvar and the torturer's assistant fought bravely. The assistant didn't last long, though, and soon it was just Hadvar fighting the last three Stormcloaks by himself.

I ran forward, an act that was much braver than I felt, as one of the Stormcloaks approached Hadvar from behind, where he couldn't see the attack coming. As I reached the Stormcloak, I forced my blade into his back, his blood spilling over my hand as he collapsed heavily against me. My stomach did a wild flip as I staggered backwards under the weight. I used all my strength to push the Stormcloak soldier off of me as I pulled my blade out of his back, and let him fall to the ground. I had never had to kill anyone before.

Hadvar managed to finish the other two off on his own and when he returned to me I was kneeling on the ground taking deep, steadying breaths.

"Are you alright?" Hadvar asked me, concern lacing his voice as he watched me.

I could only manage to shake my head in response before I heaved and spilled the contents of my stomach across the stone floor.

"You'll be ok, lass. Feel better now?" Hadvar asked, kneeling next to me, his nose wrinkled slightly, but his eyes examining my face carefully as I nodded.

We didn't run into anyone else after that, just some huge spiders and a bear. We tried to sneak past the sleeping bear, but as I moved past I was too busy focusing on the bear itself and walked straight into a large rock, stubbing my toe and cursing loudly. Hadvar sprang into immediate action against the bear while I sunk to the ground clutching my foot as silent tears fell down my cheeks. When I was done crying, Hadvar helped me to my feet and we finally exited the keep.

"Wait," Hadvar said softly, dragging me into a bush as we heard a distant roar. We looked around and saw the dragon flying away from us, its large wings beating slowly as it got further and further away. "I think it's gone for good now," Hadvar sighed, stepping back onto the path. Then, he gave a slightly dark chuckle and added, "But I don't think we should stick around to see if he comes back. Closest town from here is Riverwood. My uncle's a blacksmith there, I'm sure he'll help you out."

"Oh, I couldn't... you've already helped me enough," I stammered, quickly following after Hadvar as he walked briskly down the mountain path.

"Nonsense, lass. You'll need supplies and a place to stay tonight. You'll come with me to my Uncle's house, and then you can go wherever you want. Mind you, I'd steer clear of Imperial soldiers for a while. You're innocent as far as I'm concerned, but until I get it cleared with General Tullius, it'd be best to avoid them." Hadvar smiled warmly at me as he led the way down the winding path.

Out in the open of Skyrim, with the danger of being eaten by a dragon behind me, I was able to appreciate the beauty of the province. One of the reasons I had travelled to Skyrim in the first place was because of the stories I'd heard about its beauty, and these stories turned out to be very true. There were wild flowers growing everywhere I looked. Lush trees grew tall and thick along the stone path that Hadvar and I walked along, creating a fresh display of greenery, and I could hear the rushing of a waterfall nearby.

It took us a few hours to reach Riverwood on foot, but neither of us wasin a hurry. On the way, Hadvar pointed out some old ruins across a wide river, and told me how they had given him nightmares when he was a child. He also showed me the Guardian Stones; a set of ancient standing monoliths that were said to provide certain individuals with blessings if the Gods deemed them worthy.

He encouraged me to pick a stone and pray for its blessings, so I chose the warrior stone. The stone that would provide strength and battle prowess. It seemed like the only real choice while I was with Hadvar who was such a strong warrior himself. He looked at me approvingly after I had selected it.

When we finally walked up to the smithy in Riverwood at sunset, covered in grime and sweat and aching all over, Hadvar's uncle dropped his hammer and his jaw fell open at the sight of us. "Hadvar!" the large blacksmith exclaimed, striding out of his smithy to meet us on the road that cut through the centre of the small village.

"What are you doing here? Are you on leave?" Hadvar embraced his uncle as soon as they were within arm's reach of each other. When they separated, Hadvar's uncle held him at arm's length and looked at him properly, taking in the burns and scratches, as well as the filth that covered him from head to toe.

"Shor's bones, what's happened to you boy? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Shh, Uncle Alvor," Hadvar shushed his uncle, glancing around quickly to make sure we hadn't drawn too much attention. "I'm fine, but we should go inside to talk."

"What's going on?" Alvor asked suspiciously, glancing at me finally. I shifted awkwardly under his gaze. "And who's this?"

"She's a friend. Saved my life, actually. I'll explain everything inside," Hadvar assured his uncle, as he ushered the man towards his front door.

"Okay, okay. Come inside then, Sigrid will get you something to eat," Alvor grumbled, holding the door open for us. "Sigrid, we've got company!" he called out as he followed us inside.

The inside of the house was quite small, but comfortable. There were two beds, a fireplace, and a dining table. Hadvar and I settled at the table with Alvor, who was looking at us expectantly. A cheerful looking woman came bobbing up the stairs from the basement, followed closely by a young girl and wiping her hands on her apron as she did.

"Hadvar!" she cried when she noticed him. The young girl seated herself beside Alvor, looking curiously at me. "It's so good to see you! Look at you; you look like you've been through Oblivion! Oh you must be hungry, let me start dinner," she smiled as she fussed over Hadvar, her hands plucking at his hair and tracing cuts on his face, before busying herself with a cooking pot.

"So, tell me what happened, Hadvar," Alvor demanded once his wife had set about making dinner, his eyes gleaming with concern as he looked at his nephew. "Why are you here, and why do you look like you lost a fight with a cave bear?"

"He didn't lose," I said quickly before I could stop myself. My hands flew to cover my mouth, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment as Alvor quirked a brow at me. Hadvar grinned, his bronze eyes sparkling with amusement.

"I don't know where to start," Hadvar told his uncle, turning away from me with a heavy sigh and looking serious once again, "You know I was assigned to General Tullius's guard. Well, we were stopped in Helgen when we were attacked," Hadvar trailed off, running a hand absently through his hair as he seemed to decide whether or not to continue the sentence, "By a dragon."

"A dragon?" the young girl squeaked, looking at her father for reassurance.

At the same time there was a clatter behind us as Sigrid dropped her ladle. "Oh Mara," she breathed, picking it up quickly and looking at Hadvar with wide eyes.

"A dragon?" Alvor repeated faintly, glancing between his frightened daughter and his exhausted nephew, "That's ridiculous. You're not drunk, are you boy?"

"Husband," Sigrid said gently, frowning at her love, "Let him finish his story."

"Not much more to tell," Hadvar told her heavily, leaning back in his chair, "This dragon flew over and just wrecked the place. Mass confusion. I'm not sure if anyone else made it out alive. I doubt I'd have made it out, if it wasn't for my friend here."

I snorted at that. If anyone at this table owed anyone their life, I owed Hadvar mine, not the other way around. "I didn't do anything," I told him, shaking my head, "I almost got you killed by that bear."

"No you didn't," Hadvar replied with a smile.

I shook my head at him and opened my mouth to retort, but Alvor cut me off.

"Enough," he laughed, looking between Hadvar and I, "It doesn't matter how you both got here, just that you're here now and you're both safe."

"I need to get back to Solitude and let them know what's happened. I was hoping you could help us out with supplies?" Hadvar asked his uncle hopefully, "Artemis lost everything in Helgen, and I don't have anything for the trip back to Solitude."

"Of course," Alvor said smiling warmly at both of us. His eyes were so warm, just like Hadvar's. "Anything you need."

"Thank you," I said quietly, feeling guilty at his generosity. "Is there anything I can do in exchange?"

"Actually, there is," Alvor said, considering me for a moment, "If there's a dragon on the loose, Riverwood is in danger. Someone needs to tell the Jarl of Whiterun, and get him to send whatever soldiers he can to help us. If you do that, I'll be in your debt."

"I can do that," I nodded. That was more than a fair exchange, and it gave me a starting destination for my exploration of Skyrim.

"And there's no debt. You're helping me, it's the least I can do."

Sigrid fed us a hearty stew with bread. After not having eaten all day, it was the most amazing thing I'd ever tasted. After dinner Hadvar and I went down to the river to clean up, stripping down to our small wear and washing as much of the grime off our skin and out of our hair as we could. It was a quiet affair under the moonlight; I think we were both too preoccupied with our thoughts as they finally caught up to us to worry about conversation.

As I dragged my fingers through my matted hair, I reflected on my day. I had been picked up by Imperial soldiers just after crossing the border into Skyrim, and somehow I had ended up as a prisoner of a war I didn't know was raging. How could I explain that? I assumed the Imperials had thought I was a spy for Ulfric Stormcloak. Maybe I'd just been too close to the Stormcloaks at the time they'd been ambushed. And then the dragon attack! Ralof had saved my life. I hoped he was safe, I had a feeling he would be. He seemed like a strong, resourceful man. But why had that dragon attacked? I had always thought dragons were just folk stories. Now I knew they were real.

When we had had enough of the cold water, Hadvar and I dressed in some more suitable clothing. Sigrid had given me a tunic to wear and a set of boots. They were a bit too big, since she was a Nord and I was a much smaller Breton, but I was thankful regardless. When we got back in the house, Sigrid had set up two bed rolls by the fire for Hadvar and myself. As soon as I wriggled into mine, the exhaustion I had been pressing back all day swept over my tired body and I fell sound asleep.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading :) Again, reviews would be appreciated.


	3. The Wanderer

**A/N:** Alright, after this chapter things will get more interesting, and much less scripted, I _promise_! We just got a new puppy, so I would have uploaded this sooner, but I've had my hands full :)

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and who followed :)

And big thanks to xQueen Nothingx for being the best beta ever!

**Disclaimer: **Skyrim © Bethesda.

_And my ties are severed clean_

_The less I have the more I gain_

_Off the beaten path I reign_

_Rover, wanderer, nomad, vagabond_

_Call me what you will_

_Wherever I May Roam - Metallica_

**_Chapter Three - The Wanderer_  
**

* * *

The ride to Windhelm had taken a whole day and night, and Ulfric was surprised the horse had even made it so far without rest. Now, he sat back on his throne in the Palace of Kings; Galmar nattering on at his side as he contemplated the events at Helgen. The dragon attack had really been a blessing in disguise, allowing at least some of the Stormcloaks to escape rather than all having their heads lopped off by the Legion. He didn't know how many of his men had made it out, but he had hope that most of them escaped the carnage. He was annoyed that he had lost Ralof in the bedlam, but the young soldier could be reckless.

Reckless, yes that was the word Ulfric would use to describe the younger man's actions during the attack. It was that Breton girl that caused the defiance of the otherwise brilliant warrior. He had seen it immediately, of course. Ralof's eyes had been on her the whole ride to Helgen. Although Ulfric agreed she was very attractive, he couldn't say he would have ran into danger to rescue her himself. Ralof, on the other hand, had run straight into the dragon's path to grab the young woman as soon as he'd freed himself of his binds. Ulfric had tried to command him to stop, but Ralof had ignored the shouts and returned minutes later with the girl in tow.

Things didn't get better from there. Their escape options had been cut short, but Ralof had ensured the girl had a way out before worrying about his own men's exit strategy. He'd ordered her to jump through the roof of the Inn and run, and she had. Ulfric had not seen her after that, but knew that his men would not have been able to follow her into the collapsing building. Their weight would have brought the structure down for sure. Instead, they had made their way back out of the tower and had been scattered by the falling fireballs.

Ulfric, luckily, had secured himself a horse, and set off at breakneck speed while the dragon raged on the village, keeping the Imperials busy. He only hoped his men had had initiative to do the same, but as it stood none of them had returned to Windhelm yet. Then again, he doubted many of them would have had a horse.

* * *

I woke, the next morning, to the smell of something delicious, and also to someone shaking me lightly.

"Hadvar, let her sleep," a young girl's voice whispered disapprovingly as I turned on my side and pulled the bed roll tighter around myself, revelling in the warmth.

"Wake up, Artemis," Hadvar's gentle voice cooed in my ear as the shaking continued. I made an incoherent noise of annoyance at the amusement in his voice, which only caused him to chuckle lightly to himself.

"Come on, prisoner. Breakfast has been ready for ages," he pressed, still shaking me. I turned my head to face him, cracking one eye open to glare at him threateningly. He smirked at me, but ceased his shaking.

"Hadvar, mum said to let her sleep," Dorthe scolded Hadvar quietly. I looked at the young girl sitting at the table with her arms crossed, glaring at her cousin.

"Yeah, Hadvar," I grumbled quietly, my voice hoarse, "Let me sleep." I rolled onto my back and closed my eyes, putting my arm across my face to block out the light glaring in from the windows and tried to settle back into sleep. Now that I was awake, however, I had no idea how I had managed to sleep through the noise of Alvor working his forge in the first place. The sound of metal clanging loudly against metal might be muffled, but it still pounded through my head deafeningly.

"Come, have breakfast," Hadvar insisted. I heard the heavy thud of his boots as he moved from my side to the table with Dorthem "Sigrid will be upset if you don't eat something before you leave."

"Fine," I sighed in defeat, allowing my arms to fall at my sides as I frowned at the air above me. Slowly, I sat up in my bed roll, stretched widely, and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I sat there for a moment thinking longingly of laying back down and going back to bed, but with a great deal of effort I disentangled myself from the roll and dragged myself to the dining table. I slumped in the seat next to Hadvar with my elbows on the table and my head in my hands. There was a light thud as a bowl of warm oats was placed before me. I muttered my thanks to Hadvar as I picked up a spoon and started feeding myself automatically.

"Are you always such a morning person?" Hadvar asked me, tilting his head as the corners of his mouth turned upwards in a little smile.

"Always," I muttered, turning my gaze from him and back to my oats. They were so nice, with honey and little pieces of apple mixed through them. Sigrid was a great cook.

"You're really pretty," Dorthe spoke up, interrupting the silence and looking at me with her wide, innocent eyes, "Are you Hadvar's girlfriend?"

Her question caught me off guard, and I dropped my spoon with a small clatter as the heat rose in my cheeks. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, but no sound came out.

"No, Dorthe," Hadvar laughed openly, answering his young cousin's question and saving me from a flustered response, "She's just a friend."

"Oh," Dorthe mumbled, her eyes downcast.

"I'm sure Artemis already has a man in her life, anyway," Hadvar smiled good naturedly, ruffling his cousin's hair, "Because she is very pretty."

I had no delusions about my appearance; for the better part of my life I had been constantly reminded that I was the pretty daughter. It had been the only positive thing most people back home had ever had to say about me. I looked at Hadvar who was smiling warmly at me and continued to blush. "Thanks," I mumbled, looking away from his warm smile awkwardly.

Hadvar took Dorthe out to the smithy as I ate the rest of my breakfast, to avoid any more awkwardness. I appreciated the gesture, but felt a bit awkward as I sat by myself in the strange house. When he returned some time later, he was carrying a set of leather armour.

"Alvor made this for you, since you lost everything in Helgen," he told me, passing me the leathers.

I looked at them in awe. It was my first set of actual armour, and it was beautiful. The chest piece had a leather twine down the side to lace it up, with hard protective pauldrons. There was a set of light leather breeches to go under the harder thigh guards, and to complete the set, leather boots and braces. They were plain, but I thought they were amazing. I wasted no time changing into the armour, and stretching in it. It was a bit stiff, because it was new, and it groaned in protest, but it fit perfectly.

"How did he get it so perfect?" I asked Hadvar, marvelling at the fit.

"He does this for a living," Hadvar told me, grinning at me as I ran my hands over the armour for the hundredth time. "I packed you some supplies, and Uncle Alvor insisted on giving you some coin for your journey," he continued, holding up a small knapsack.

"Wow," I mumbled, looking from my armour to the knapsack guiltily, "I should be giving your uncle coin, not the other way round," I said to Hadvar.

Hadvar chuckled and placed the knapsack at my feet. "Uncle Alvor's a generous man," Hadvar told me, "He's always been the kind to help out a stranger in need. When my father died, he was the first relative to open his home to me. He made sure I was always well looked after until I decided to join the Legion, and even then he made sure I knew I was welcome to come back at any time."

"You're lucky to have an Uncle like that," I said, thinking of my own father bitterly, "I should say thank you to him before I go."

"Aye. Well, he's playing in his forge, I'll walk you to the bridge on the edge of town when you're ready," Hadvar smiled.

I picked up the knapsack and followed Hadvar out to the smithy, where Alvor was working on an iron sword.

"You off then, lass?" Alvor asked, looking up at me and wiping his sweaty brow with the back of his hand.

"I am," I replied with a small smile. "Thank you for everything, really. It's more than I deserve."

"Ah, any friend of Hadvar's is welcome here any time she needs," Alvor replied, waving off my thanks as if he hadn't done anything special. "Oh, and before I forget," he picked up a short iron sword and handed it to me, "Hadvar said the sword you were using looked too big for you, lass, so I made you something a bit more your size."

"Oh, you didn't need to," I mumbled, my cheeks flushing again. I took the sword and tested its weight. It was a lot more comfortable than the sword I had used in the keep.

"It's nothing, lass," Alvor assured me, "You look after yourself, and remember you're welcome here any time you need somewhere to stay."

"Thank you, Alvor," I beamed as the blacksmith gave me a pat on the shoulder.

Hadvar walked me out of the village and to the bridge as promised. "Just follow the path to the right and use the sign posts. You'll know Whiterun when you see it," he told me as we reached the stone bridge.

"Thank you for everything," I said, giving Hadvar a quick hug.

"It's nothing," Hadvar replied, much like his uncle. It was obviously a family trait. "Hopefully I'll see you in Solitude."

"Hopefully," I beamed. Hadvar watched me until I could no longer see him when I looked back. With the sun shining happily in the sky, I followed the trail as I was instructed and left Riverwood behind, making my way to Whiterun.

Ralof and his brothers in arms had been on the run. They were tired and hungry, but thankfully not cold. Growing up in the freezing climates of Skyrim, they had built a natural resistance to the frigid climate. Because of the Imperials lurking around the country, they had been forced to stay off the main roads, and instead bash their way through the forested areas of their homeland until they reached Windhelm, which was still at least a day away. Ralof just hoped when they got there they would find Ulfric safe in his Palace.

He hadn't seen his leader, the true High King of Skyrim, since they had left that crumbling tower in Helgen. Once they had ventured out into the fray, they found their way so treacherous that they had been forced to scatter. Ulfric had disappeared almost immediately, and Ralof had led his brothers in arms to the safety of the keep while maintaining a keen lookout for the Jarl of Windhelm. He didn't see him again though, and hoped the Imperials hadn't captured him as he tried to escape the madness.

The thought of Ulfric being prisoner to the damn Legion made Ralof uneasy, but it wasn't the only thought that caused him disquiet. The little Breton prisoner also filled his head. He had seen her in the madness, running for the keep with that bastard Hadvar. At the time, Ralof had wanted to drag her along with him, but Hadvar had grabbed her and directed her to the keep. On one hand, Ralof knew that if any Legionnaire would see to it that the girl was safe, it was definitely Hadvar, but on the other hand he couldn't help thinking the worst. What if they hadn't made it to safety? What if that girls body lay somewhere in the smouldering rubble of Helgen? Ralof didn't even know why he cared so much, but he just knew that girl was special in some way.

I finally found myself at Dragonsreach, the Jarl's fortress, late in the afternoon. The guards of the Whiterun had been reluctant to allow me entry to the city, but I had told them I had information for the Jarl from Helgen. Finally, they had begrudgingly let me through the city gates with directions to find Dragonsreach, and a promise that I would be watched while I was within the city.

The outside of Dragonsreach was impressive to say the least. The stunning fortress was situated on the highest rise in the city and its large turrets overlooked the simple houses in the streets below. There were a series of steps beside a waterfall and a beautiful bridge over a stream that was sheltered by a wooden archway leading up to the huge, wooden doors of Dragonsreach, making it all the more impressive. I saw that all of this was nothing compared to the inside, as I pushed open the heavy door. The first thing that caught my attention within the walls of the Jarl's home was the fire pit in the centre of the spacious hall. It crackled merrily, creating a warm and bright atmosphere. Lining this fire pit were two long dining tables, both laden with expensive looking plates and goblets. I noticed there was very little food, though.

The warmth of the fire pit did not overpower the sense of unease I felt, however, as I walked cautiously through the hall. I could hear voices carrying from the other end, where a group of people were situated. They sounded like they were having a disagreement. My sense of discomfort increased as I got closer to them, and I found myself thinking wildly that the Jarl might just finish my execution if I told him I had been at Helgen. The thought made me want to turn tail and run, but it was too late for that.

I realized with a prickle of dread that I had been noticed, finally. All eyes were on me, and as I approached, shaking from head to foot, a menacing looking Dunmer woman came forward to meet me, her red eyes narrowing as she looked down at me. I stopped in my tracks with a small yelp as the woman drew her sword and pointed it at me threateningly.

"What is the meaning of this interruption?" she demanded, her voice sharp and full of authority, "Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors."

I quickly held up my trembling hands to show I was not a threat, or someone looking for trouble, as I watched the tip her blade uncomfortably. "I have news from Helgen, about the dragon attack," I squeaked at the Dunmer, hoping that she would accept this as easily as the guards had, and I wouldn't have to personally meet the sword that was pointed in my direction.

The Dunmer continued to glare at me through her narrowed eyes. My stomach did acrobatic tricks all the while, but I tried to stay still under her watchful eyes, afraid that any sudden movements would result in an untimely death for me.

The tense silence was broken by a strong, authoritative voice as the Jarl spoke, "Irileth, if she has news from Helgen, I want to hear what she has to say."

"Of course, my Jarl," Irileth the Dunmer said obediently, sheathing her sword reluctantly and relaxing her stance ever so slightly. Her eyes remained hard and wary as they watched me, however. "This way," she directed me impatiently.

I followed Irileth up a small set of steps and stood before the Jarl. I suddenly felt like I was a fourteen year old girl standing before the Lord and his court back home again, and it made me glad that my father had never felt it necessary to bring me to the Lords castle with him after that one occasion, as he had with my sister. Not only was the Jarl watching me intently, but also, rather apprehensively, were a paunchy Imperial man, a burly Nord man, Irileth the Dunmer, and a pair of guards. It was like they all expected me to grow fangs and launch at the Jarl at a moment's notice. I didn't like the way Irileth's hand rested on the hilt of her sword, or the way the Nord body guard flexed intimidatingly, because both gave off enough hostility as it was.

Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, himself, was a typical Nord man in appearance; tall, muscular like his Nord body guard, and with fair hair and light eyes. He relaxed in his throne, looking impressive, and exuding an air of authority and confidence.

"So, you were at Helgen?" the Jarl asked, sounding fascinated, leaning forward a little as he looked over me. For all the power this man possessed, I couldn't help but relax a little bit as I looked back up into his grey eyes.

"Yes, Jarl Balgruuf," I stammered quickly, realising I had been staring at the man, "I was at Helgen when the dragon attacked."

"And you made it out?" the Jarl asked, his eyebrows rising slightly as he looked me over again, seeming impressed with me.

"I had help," I mumbled, glancing nervously at Irileth as her hand twitched around her sword.

"I see," the Jarl smiled softly. "What else can you tell me... er?"

"Artemis," I supplied, as he looked at me expectantly, "I can't say too much more for certain, sir. I was so scared at the time that I was just focusing on getting out of Helgen. I do know that the Dragon was last seen heading towards Riverwood, and that they aren't protected if the dragon is still in the mountains."

The Jarl thought for a moment, then turned his attention from me to his paunchy looking Imperial advisor and said, "what do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in our walls? Against a dragon?"

"My Jarl," the Imperial advisor started in an exasperated voice, but the Jarl held up one of his large hands to silence him, obviously not really wanting an answer.

"Irileth, you will need send troops to Riverwood immediately," the Jarl told the Dunmer firmly as he looked to her instead.

Irileth opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by the advisor. "But what of the Jarl of Falkreath?" he exclaimed, looking at the Jarl with wide eyes, "He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric and attack him."

"What kind of Jarl would sit on his throne and do nothing while a dragon potentially burns his hold and threatens his people, Proventus?" the Jarl asked, shaking his head impatiently at his advisor, "I will not sit idly by and do nothing while my citizens need me. Send a courier to Falkreath if you feel it necessary, Proventus. Explain our situation to Jarl Siddgeir; I'm sure he will understand."

"Of course, Jarl Balgruuf," Proventus nodded, retreating from the Jarl's side, looking like a child that had been scolded and sent to his room as he left the group around the Jarl's throne.

"Irileth, I want those men to be leaving tonight. The sooner Riverwood is protected, the better," Jarl Balgruuf told Irileth patiently.

"Of course, my Jarl," Irileth said, giving a quick, respectful bow before striding down the hall looking much happier about her job than Proventus did.

"You have done Whiterun a great service, young lady," the Jarl said, his eyes settling back on me. "I am thankful that you came to me with this information."

"Your advisor didn't seem too happy about it," I mused, glancing nervously at the Jarl as the words slipped out of my mouth. Thankfully, the Jarl's face broke into an amused smile.

"Proventus is just over cautious because of this civil war," he explained, "He means well, though. But, enough about Proventus. Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?"

"Um, no," I mumbled, frowning slightly.

"Hrongar," the Jarl waved over his Nord body guard, who came obediently.

"Yes, My Jarl?" Hrongar asked respectfully.

"Show our friend Artemis to the Bannered Mare please, brother," Balgruuf instructed, "Tell Hulda that she will be staying there for a week as a guest of the Jarl."

"Yes, sir," Hrongar nodded, looking to me, "Come with me, lass."

"Thank you, Jarl Balgruuf," I exclaimed, bowing slightly as I did.

"You're welcome, child," Balgruuf smiled. "I hope to see you around Whiterun. You're welcome here for as long as you please."

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading, I hope you follow and review :)


	4. The Companions

**A/N: **Hi guys :) I'm hoping you're all still around! Thanks for the reviews, and the follows, I really do appreciate it. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Thanks again to xQueen Nothingx for all of your hard work and help!

**Disclaimer:** Skyrim © Bethesda.

_Don't stop me now_

_I'm having such a good time_

_I'm having a ball_

_Don't Stop Me Now - Queen_

_**Chapter Four - The Companions**_

* * *

My stay at the Bannered Mare was comfortable, but I knew I wouldn't be able to afford to stay there after my week as the Jarl's guest was over. Hulda, the Inn Keeper, was happy to have me, but I imagined the story would change when she wasn't going to be receiving a nice fee from the Jarl anymore.

On my last day at the Inn I was sure to make the most of it, ordering a sweet roll and apples for breakfast and scarfing them down as if I hadn't eaten in weeks.

"Hungry?" Hulda grinned, watching me with amusement.

"Extremely," I replied thickly through a mouthful of apple. "I don't know when I'll be able to afford to eat like this again," I told her when I swallowed. The coin Alvor had given me was almost all gone, having spent it on food or trinkets in the market place.

"If you're looking for coin, you could try the Companions up in Jorrvaskr. I don't know if they're looking for new recruits, but it's worth a shot," Hulda told me, smiling sweetly as she filled a tankard with ale.

"Who are the Companions?" I asked her curiously. I'd been in Whiterun for a week and had heard them being mentioned from time to time, but I didn't actually know anything about them.

"They're a group of warriors, they'll fix most problems for a price," Hulda told me.

"And where is this Jorrvaskr?" I asked, tilting my head. I was a capable warrior... well, I had a sword. I could focus on the minor details later.

"Up in the Wind District," she told me, "On the Eastern side."

"Thanks," I smiled before taking another bite of my apple. She then moved to the other end of the bar to tend to her other patrons.

Later that afternoon I made my way to Jorrvaskr. When I pushed open the door, I was greeted by a jumble of yelling. As I moved inside, I saw that there was a fight taking place. A male Dunmer was fighting a female Nord, and she was winning. The people that were standing around watching looked amused, one man even chuckled and said, "Are they really at it again?"

I watched, shocked at the display, as the female Nord delivered a blow to the Dumner's face and he went limp. No one even bothered to help him after the fight; they all just went back about their business.

"What brings you here, girl?" a rough voice asked.

I turned sharply to find an older Nord man in heavy looking armour. He was standing with his arms crossed over his chest and was studying me with interest.

"Uh, I was hoping to join the Companions," I replied nervously, fiddling with the strap on my knapsack.

"An honourable sentiment," the Nord said gruffly, giving me a rough smile, "But you'll have to speak to Kodlak about that. He's the one who decides if you've got what it takes to be part of this family."

"Right," I nodded. "And where do I find this Kodlak?"

"He'll be in his living quarters, downstairs and right down the end of the hall. Good luck, newcomer," the Nord grinned, pointing me towards a set of stairs.

"Thank you," I said, before marching over to the stairs.

The downstairs area was dark and cool, and the hall seemed to stretch on forever. As I neared the end of the hall, I heard voices coming from the end room and slowed my pace.

"But I still hear the call of the blood," a man was saying heavily, his voice deep and striking. I edged closer to the half open door.

"We all do," another voice responded soothingly, this man sounded sagacious,. "It is our burden to bear, but we can overcome."

"You have my brother and I, obviously," the first voice said proudly, "I don't know if the rest will go along quite so easily."

"Leave them to me," the second voice replied calmly.

I decided I'd eavesdropped enough at that point, and lightly rapped on the door. "Enter," the second voice called out to me. I pushed the door open more and stepped gingerly into the room. Sitting at a small, round table were two Nord men, one a bit younger than middle aged, and the other was an older man. The older man was obviously the Kodlak I was seeking.

"Well, hello there," Kodlak smiled at me, indicating for me to come closer, "What brings you to our mead hall?"

"I wish to join the Companions," I told him nervously as I approached the table, feeling much like a child. The younger man gave a breath of laughter at my statement, and that hurt my pride, but I gave no indication that I'd heard him as I looked at Kodlak. He looked me up and down, scrutinizing me as a warrior.

"Hmm," he hummed to himself while squinting at me, "Yes, perhaps a certain strength of... spirit."

"Master, you're not truly considering accepting _her_?" the young man asked indignantly. Again, I didn't give any sign that I had heard him, even though I wanted to slap him.

"I am nobody's Master, Vilkas," Kodlak scolded, giving the younger Nord a disapproving look, "And last time I checked, Jorrvaskr has some empty beds for those with fire burning in their hearts."

"Apologies," Vilkas said quickly. "But, perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this _outsider_." _For the love of Mara, how arrogant was this Nord?_

"Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference. What matters is their heart," Kodlak said wisely, still looking at me as if he was trying to see into my very soul.

"And their arm," Vilkas added immediately.

"Of course," Kodlak nodded in agreement, "How are you in battle, girl?"

For a moment I considered lying, and telling them I could hold my own just to show up the arrogant Vilkas, but I knew I would be better off telling the truth in the long run. After all, if they thought I could fight well they might just send me out on my own and I could end up getting killed. "I have a lot to learn," I admitted, holding my head high.

"That's the spirit," Kodlak said approvingly. "Vilkas here will get started on that. Vilkas take her out to the yard and see what she can do."

Vilkas heaved a sigh and got to his feet. I looked at him for the first real time, disappointed to see that I came up to his chest when he was standing. His eyes were a strange silvery colour, almost white; they unsettled me, but I found them as striking as his voice. He had wild, black hair and his eyes were surrounded by war paint. He looked terrifying, in short.

"Come on, whelp," Vilkas growled, stalking out of the room. I looked anxiously at Kodlak, who gave me an encouraging smile before trotting after him.

I had to jog to keep up with Vilkas's longer strides, but he showed no sign of caring as we ascended the stairs up to the main dining hall. A couple of people looked at us curiously, but Vilkas paid them as much mind as he paid me and I wondered if he was rude to everyone, or just to newcomers.

When we were out in the sunlight, Vilkas turned sharply and looked down his nose at me. "The old man said to have a look at you," he grumbled, "So, take a few swings at me. Don't worry, I can take it," he added, seeing the troubled look on my face.

Apprehensively, I drew my sword and took a swing at Vilkas. Admittedly, I didn't swing with full power, but I had at least expected his shield to move a bit.

"You didn't try," Vilkas growled, "Again, with feeling." Again, I swung at him, a bit harder this time. Vilkas shook his head and scowled at me, "I knew you were just a pretty face that didn't have what it takes," he snapped, turning his back on me to head back inside.

As his words rung through my ears, I growled angrily at his back and took a mighty swing at him, using my full force this time. Vilkas, who had obviously been expecting my reaction, hardly budged from my blow, but he turned back to me with a smirk on his face.

"That's better," he said approvingly, "You might make it after all. But, for now you're just a whelp and you do what we say." Arrogant scowl back in place, "Follow me."

I followed obediently, seething behind Vilkas's back as he led me back inside the mead hall and down the stairs again. I thought for a moment he was taking me back to Kodlak, but just before Kodlak's door we turned and instead came to another door.

Vilkas knocked sharply on this door twice and called, "Aela!"

The door opened and revealed tall, slender, and wild looking Nord woman. Between her fiery hair and the swipe of war paint covering her face, she had an air that simply demanded respect. "Yes?" she asked, looking curiously between Vilkas and myself.

"New blood, this is Aela. You go to her for work," Vilkas told bluntly. "Aela, look after this one will you." And just like that, Vilkas left me standing with Aela.

"So, you're the new blood?" Aela asked, her face breaking into a smirk as Vilkas disappeared around a corner.

"Yes," I responded nervously.

"Hey, Ice-Brain!" she suddenly called to a Nord who was walking past. The Nord stopped and gave Aela and I a curious look.

"Yes, Aela?" he asked, his voice was deep and had a certain gravelly quality to it, though it was far from unpleasant.

"This is Farkas, you can talk to him about work as well. Farkas, why don't you show this new blood where to put her things?" Aela commanded before retreating into her quarters and closing the door with a quiet snap.

"New blood, huh?" Farkas mused looking down at me. To say Farkas was muscular would be a massive understatement; he appeared to be muscle on muscle, precariously perched on top of more muscle. I was sure one of his arms was thicker than my entire body. He was roughly the same height as Vilkas, maybe a hair shorter, and I assumed by his wild features and silvery white eyes that they were related, although Farkas seemed a lot more approachable.

I nodded timidly in response to his question. "Come on, follow me then. It's nice to have a new face around," he said, making conversation as he led me down the hall, "I hope we keep you, it can be a tough life."

"It can?" I asked, trotting after him.

He noticed my trot and slowed down, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards slightly, "Yeah. A lot of people can't handle it."

"Oh," I mumbled, falling into a more comfortable step beside him, "Well, I'm not exactly a great warrior."

"You'll learn, and you won't be forced to do anything you don't think you can handle," Farkas assured me with a smile, "This is where the whelps sleep." He opened a door and stood back for me to go in first. "Just pick a bed and fall in it. I'm sure these guys will make you feel welcome," He gave a pointed look to the few people already in the room, "Well, I'll let you settle in. Come see me or Aela when you're ready for some work."

"Sure," I said, smiling up at the Nord.

Early one Sundas afternoon, almost three amazing months after I had joined the Companions, I found myself in the training yard, sweat pouring down my face and neck. I leaned forward, hands on my knees, catching my breath. Athis stood in front of me, his sword held loosely in his hand and a rare grin gracing his sharp features.

"Had enough?" he asked, amusement clear in his voice.

I looked up at him, pushing my damp hair back from my face, and returned his grin. "Not on your life," I panted before stooping to pick up my own sword.

It had been a slow few days, so Athis and I had spent much of our time in the yard together. The older Dunmer was happy to spend his time teaching me how to fight, as he often did when we had spare time. I was quite fond of him, if truth be told. He was very interesting, and always willing to entertain me.

"You're getting much better at this," Athis told me, making my chest swell with pride as I straightened up, ready to resume our practice.

"_Better_?" someone scoffed from the tables in the shade, "I've seen children wield weapons better than Artemis!" This statement was met by soft chuckle.

Athis and I turned to find Njada and Vilkas lazing around the table, tankards of drink in their hands as they watched us. I glowered at Njada, but didn't reply to the rude Nord. She wasn't worth my time, as I had figured out in my first few weeks. She didn't get along with anyone except Vilkas.

"Don't listen to her," Athis muttered, placing a hand on my shoulder and turning me to face away from the pair of pests.

I tried to resume the training, but with Njada and Vilkas throwing snide comments at me, it was hard to concentrate and even harder to actually enjoy myself. It didn't take long for me to reach maximum frustration at the pair, and sheath my sword.

"I'm done," I told Athis flatly, casting a dirty look at Njada over my shoulder.

Athis nodded his understanding, and we made our way inside doing our best to ignore the pair as was passed them.

Inside our mead hall it was fairly quiet. I spied Ria and Aela talking to Skjor in the corner, their heads bent together. I couldn't hear what they were saying, and as we drew closer they fell silent and watched us pass in what I'm sure they thought was a discreet manner. I was curious about their behaviour, but Farkas had told me a couple of times before not to ask about it.

As Athis and I started down the stairs to the sleeping quarters, the door at the bottom of the stairs opened and we almost bumped straight into Farkas on his way up to the dining area.

"Just the Breton I was looking for," he grinned as his silvery eyes settled on me.

Athis shuffled past Farkas and left us standing in the stairway together.

"Why are you looking for me?" I asked, feeling a bit better to be speaking to Farkas. He always managed to make me feel happier.

"A job just came in, I thought you might be interested," he explained happily, ushering me back up the stairs, "It's a small one, someone wants us to clear a couple of bandits out of their iron mine. I thought you'd be interested, so I'm asking you first."

I smiled at his consideration. He was always coming to me with the small jobs, much to Vilkas's disgust, but he knew I wanted to earn coin and I was too inexperienced for the more serious jobs. "You're going to come with me, right?" I asked, knowing he would.

"Of course," he replied, ruffling my hair affectionately. I frowned up at him and slapped his hand away in mock irritation, causing him to laugh.

The following morning we packed our things and set out for the iron mine, ready to deal with the bandits. When we arrived at the mine we knew straight away that we'd been misinformed. The couple of bandits were actually a lot more than that.

"This isn't good," Farkas murmured as we crept into the smelting yard. He pointed out two lookout platforms, each manned with an archer. Around the yard there were about five men smelting and working the forge. I knew there would be more men inside the mine as well.

"We can't turn back now," I muttered back. We had travelled all the way out here, I was sure we could handle it if we were careful, although I wouldn't deny that I was nervous.

"You silence the lookouts," Farkas instructed, and I knew that was his way of keeping me away from the real danger. I was apprehensive about him going against the group of men alone, but I knew the archers needed to be dealt with, so I gave a nod and started edging around to the wooden steps that led to the first platform.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I looked down at Farkas and gave him a nod. I felt my heart speed up as he approached the group near the forge, causing a significant distraction for the lookouts. My lookout noticed Farkas as soon as he started moving, and started to notch an arrow. I wasn't willing to let him loose that arrow, so I drew one sword with a shaking hand and approached him as silently as I could. Thankfully, he was so focused on Farkas that he didn't hear the creak of the loose wooden plank when I stepped on it, and before he was able to fire his shot my blade was drawing across his throat, silently ending his life.

Blood was something I was used to by then, so the cringes and rolling stomach sensation didn't interrupt me as I extracted the bow from the dead man's hand and notched a new arrow. I wasn't fantastic with bows, and I was too intimidated to ask Aela for training, but I took aim at the platform across from me. I lined up the other archer and took a deep breath before firing the arrow. It sailed across the way and struck the other archer in the chest.

My eyes widened in amazement at my luck. I hadn't really been expecting to hit the archer, I'd simply been hoping to distract him, but the results worked in my favour.

Realising that Farkas was still fighting the bandits down by the forge, I dropped the bow with a clatter and set off down the stairs at full speed. When I burst into the fray I was relieved to find Farkas holding his own. I knew he was a strong and resilient warrior, but that didn't stop me having small panic attacks whenever we were separated.

Contented that Farkas was fine, adrenaline took over. I was able to take my first victim by surprise, slashing violently across his chest. He looked at me with wide eyes as he fell to the ground, and I felt a pang of guilt. I didn't like to see their eyes when they died. That was quickly put aside, however, as another bandit noticed me and launched himself into attack.

I managed to block his blow, but I felt my knees buckle under the pressure and I suffered a moment of sheer panic when they crashed into the ground, hard. I heard the bandit chuckle at my misfortune, looking up in time to see him swinging his weapon back for what he must have thought would be a finishing blow.

Before he had even started to swing his weapon back at me, a steel blade ripped through his chest and I was splattered with his blood. When his body was pushed forcibly aside, I watched, stunned, as Farkas was already turning back to fight the men that were emerging from the mine.

Gathering myself, I took a deep breath and rushed back in. It was hopeless. There were so many of them and only two of us. Fear was beginning to settle on me as I realized we couldn't possibly get away from this one. It was so overwhelming that I was easily thrown into one of the wooden tables on the side. I shrieked as the bandit advanced on me with two others. My sword had fallen from my hand somewhere between the fight and the landing, and I was defenceless. My heart stopped as the distance was closed, and I knew I was going to die.

I closed my eyes, praying for a miracle. Someone to come and save us. No miracle came, though. Nor did the attack that should have ended my life. A violent growl echoed around the smelting yard, and men's screams filled the air around me. I didn't know if I wanted to look. Something had scared the bandits, scared them enough that I was still alive and I didn't know if that was a blessing or not.

Chancing a glance, I gasped in absolute shock at what I saw.

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**A/N: **Hope you liked that! Please review or follow :) I appreciate it very much!


	5. Bleak Falls Barrow

**A/N:** So here's chapter five :) I didn't get much response from the last chapter, but I'm not going to let that discourage me. I've put too much hard work into this already! I hope whoever is reading this enjoys the chapter, and I hope you come back.

Big thanks to xQueen Nothingx... again! You're the best beta a girl could ask for.

**Disclaimer:** Skyrim © Bethesda.

_Welcome to wherever you are_

_This is your life; you made it this far_

_Welcome; you got to believe_

_That right here right now, you're exactly where you're supposed to be_

_Welcome to wherever you are_

_Welcome to Wherever You Are - Bon Jovi_

_**Chapter Five - Bleak Falls Barrow**_

* * *

A werewolf. A werewolf ripping the bandits apart. I was used to blood, but not carnage like that. Limbs, organs, and blood covered the ground. Men were running in every direction to avoid the savage claws of the werewolf as it gouged them apart unbiasedly, and as it advanced on me I thought I was going to be next. I couldn't see Farkas anywhere in the mayhem, and I felt my heart clench as I thought of him being ripped to pieces by the werewolf.

Then, something quite amazing happened.

The werewolf stopped in front of me, and turned back to the bandits who were escaping with their lives and growled. It was protecting me, I realized. But why would a werewolf protect me? Then an idea sprang to my mind.

I got to my feet and walked carefully up to the werewolf, placing my hand gingerly on its arm. It looked down at me, jaws drenched in blood and saliva, silvery eyes glowing, but warm. "Farkas?" I whispered.

The werewolf blinked, then gave a small nod. I was surprised, to say the least, but I found that I didn't mind. I was alive, and I owed that to Farkas, the werewolf. I felt an overwhelming wave of appreciation wash over me, and I wrapped my arms tightly around Farkas's huge, furry arm, letting out a calming breath as my heart slowed down to a normal speed again.

Eventually, I found myself in Dragonsreach again. Jarl Balgruuf had sent one of his guards to collect me, apparently wishing to have an audience. I was directed to the court mage's quarters to wait. The court mage, Farengar Secret-Fire, was very inquisitive. Too inquisitive for my liking. He paced back and forth excitedly asking me all kinds of questions about High Rock, none of which I knew the answer to.

"But, you must be a well practiced mage," he insisted, when I told him I hadn't been in High Rock for five years.

"No," I replied stiffly, my eyes narrowing as we breached on my least favourite topic, "I can't honestly say I'm a _well practiced_ mage."

"But, you're a Breton," Farengar persisted, looking at me as if I myself didn't know I was a Breton, "Your people are incredibly skilled in the arcane arts."

"Not all of us, apparently," I growled. I felt like I was talking to my father once again, with Farengar's insistence that I must know magic. Fortunately, I was saved any further interrogation on the matter as Jarl Balgruuf finally meandered into the room.

"Artemis, good to see you," he said immediately, smiling warmly and giving me a firm pat on the shoulder, "I hear you've made quite an impression at Jorrvaskr."

"Not that much of an impression," I smiled, glad to be talking about something other than my heritage with someone likeable, "But, they keep me around."

"I'm sure you're doing a great job," Balgruuf beamed.

"My Jarl, sorry to interrupt, but are you sure about this?" Farengar spoke up, breaking apart our happy reunion with his hesitant tone. I wondered what he was talking about.

"Yes, Farengar. I'm sure about my selection, that is if Artemis is agreeable," Balgruuf turned to me, his buoyant manner dying down a bit. "Artemis, you've already done Whiterun a big service, more of a service than you know, but I have another favour to ask of you."

"What is this favour, my Jarl?" I asked, tilting my head.

"Well, Farengar here has been looking into this dragon business, and he needs someone to retrieve an artefact for him. I was hoping you would be able to do that? There will be a substantial reward," Balgruuf explained, his smile still in place.

"Where do I need to go?" I asked, glancing at Farengar curiously.

"To Bleak Falls Barrow, I believe. Well, that's where all the evidence points," Farengar supplied, turning from hesitant to eager in the blink of an eye as he rushed to his desk and started looking over various sheafs of paper.

"I guess I could go," I said slowly, unable to say no to Balgruuf. He was such a nice man, and he thought so highly of me. I couldn't disappoint him without feeling like an awful person.

"Excellent, I knew you'd be willing to help," Balgruuf exclaimed, patting me on the back, "I'll let Farengar explain everything to you. I'll be upstairs if you need me."

"So, what am I getting?" I asked, moving over to Farengar's desk as the Jarl made his exit.

"I learned of an ancient Dragonstone said to contain a map of dragon burial sites," Farengar told me excitedly, "I expect it will be somewhere in the main chamber. All you have to do is find it, and bring it back to me."

"Sounds easy enough," I mused, looking at the various pieces of paper with their odd scripts and detailed maps.

"Going somewhere, sister?" Farkas's gravelly voice rumbled around the unusually quiet initiates' room, making me jump and drop the lock picks I had been counting.

I was packing up my knapsack, getting ready to depart for Bleak Falls Barrow in the morning. Everyone else was at dinner in the dining hall.

"Jarl Balgruuf asked me to do something for him," I replied, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. I hadn't exactly told anyone that I was leaving yet, except Kodlak. I was planning on telling them all later when I had finished packing up, and by all, I really just meant Farkas and Athis.

I turned back to my knapsack and shoved in some healing potions I had picked up from Arcadia's Cauldron earlier in the day. They weren't overly effective, and only really helped with pain and stopping heavy bleeding, but I always carried a couple just in case.

"Where are you heading?" Farkas asked me after a moment of silence.

"Bleak Falls Barrow," I told him as I pulled the draw stings of the knapsack, satisfied with what I had packed.

"The old ruins near Riverwood?" Farkas mused. When I nodded my affirmative response he said, "Dangerous place. You're going to go alone?"

"Are you offering to come with me?" I asked hopefully, turning to look at my Shield-Brother again.

"Well, there's no work coming in for the Companions right now. Besides, I'd hate to think of you hogging all the fun," Farkas replied with a roguish grin, making me laugh, "When are we leaving?"

"Sunrise," I replied with a smile. "Don't be late, or I'll leave without you," I threatened him as he retreated from the room, but fooling no one. We both knew he would be the first to rise, as he always was.

It was in fact me who caused us to leave late the next morning for Bleak Falls Barrow. Athis had returned from a job late in the evening, and I had sat up talking to him well into the night, making me reluctant to wake up when Farkas came looking for me.

When I did drag myself out of bed, Farkas had mocked me all the way to the city gates. "Don't be late," he mimicked my words from the previous night, shaking his head at me and laughing. I could only manage to glare at him in response in the pale morning light, my eyes still very heavy with sleep.

We reached Bleak Falls Barrow just after sunset, which worked in our favour because there were some bandits making the ruins their temporary home. I wasn't very proficient with a bow yet, and Farkas told me it had never been his strong suit, so we slunk through the shadows and managed to get close enough to silence the lookouts without them alerting their friends.

I was always amazed at Farkas's ability to sneak, since he was so big, but he could make himself pretty much invisible when he wanted to. Normally it was me-the tiny, light-footed Breton that gave away our location in bandit camps. I guess he just had a lot more practice at sneaking around than I did.

When we got inside the ruins, we came across another pair of bandits who were arguing about something; some loot that one of their companions had taken deeper into the ruins. "What if he doesn't come back? I want my share of that claw," one of the bandits complained sourly, his voice covering the sounds of Farkas's and my footsteps.

"If that elf wants to run ahead, let him. Better him than us, anyway. I'd rather just sit here and keep watch," the other bandit grumbled.

I looked to Farkas and raised my eyebrows, curious about what they were saying. He just shrugged in response before launching out of the shadows and swinging his massive two handed sword at one of the bandits. His attack was enough to distract them both, so that I could sneak up behind the second without being noticed and slit his throat while Farkas finished the first.

We continued on our way through the ruins without meeting anyone else for a long while. When we did happen upon another bandit, he was already dead. He was slumped next to an ancient looking lever with a couple of flimsy darts stuck in his chest and several more darts littered the ground around him.

Farkas picked up a dart and gently pressed it to his tongue before spitting on the ground and declaring the darts to be poisoned. The room was booby-trapped and we could not move forward without figuring out how to deactivate the traps. Farkas walked over to some spinning pillars and started to turn them while I looked around the room for any helpful details.

"Snake and fish," I muttered looking up at the carvings above us, then to the pillars that Farkas was playing with. "The first one is the snake, and the last one is the fish, I don't know about the middle," I told him. The carving seemed to be completely missing.

Farkas turned the first and last pillars to the symbols I had told him, and then started to turn the middle pillar. "It has to be the other symbol," he said confidently, turning the pillar until it displayed a bird. Sure of himself, he walked to the lever to pull it.

"Wait!" I exclaimed, grabbing his arm, "I don't think that's right. Look there." I pointed to a heap of stone on the ground. It was difficult to make out, but I could see what looked like the carving of another serpent. "I think the middle is meant to be a snake as well."

Farkas didn't look convinced. "Fine, try that. But you're pulling the lever," he grumbled, moving back to the pillar and spinning it to show the snake symbol.

"Here goes nothing," I muttered to myself, closing my eyes as I rested my hand on the lever. I took a deep, bracing breath, grit my teeth and pulled the lever towards me. I flinched, expecting to be stabbed by the poisonous darts, but none came. I opened my eyes, surprised, and looked at the now clear doorway.

"Smarter than you look," Farkas commended me, slapping me on the back with one of his big Nord hands as he walked by, making me stumble forward as my knees gave way from the force.

"Rude," I hissed as I scurried after him.

We faced our next challenge as distressed cries for help reached our ears. We ran to aid whoever was calling out only to run into a giant Frostbite Spider, the responsibility of which fell heavily on me. Farkas, the otherwise fearless brute of a man, was actually terrified of spiders. So, I took care of the spider, driving both of my blades into the top of what I can only describe as its head.

"You killed it," the man who had been calling for help said hysterically. Upon closer inspection, I saw that he was a Dunmer who was caught up in the spider's thick, sticky webbing. "Please, cut me down! I promise you won't regret it. I know the secret of these ruins!" he pleaded as Farkas and I approached him.

"And what exactly is the secret?" Farkas asked, his eyes narrowing. He obviously shared my hesitation to trust this Dunmer.

"I'll show you, if you cut me down," was the reply. He might be distressed, but that didn't stop him from being shrewd.

I exchanged a wary glance with Farkas and shrugged my consent to free the Dunmer. Farkas sighed before cutting the man down. In a blink, the Dunmer was running away from us shouting, "I'm not sharing the claw with anyone."

"I knew he'd do that," Farkas growled, glowering after the Dunmer.

"We needed to get through there anyway," I said comfortingly, indicating to the doorway the webbing had been covering.

We set off again, following the sound of the frantic footsteps of the Dunmer. As we followed him, we heard him cry out in terror. I looked at Farkas anxiously, and he indicated that we keep quiet as we crept closer to where the scream had come from.

We found the Dunmer's body lying in the middle of a crypt, blood splattered along the floor around it. I wanted to scream at what else was in the crypt, but I managed to keep my outburst to a quiet gasp. The corpses of long dead Nords were walking freely, their eyes glowing an eerie blue in the darkness.

"Draugr," Farkas whispered, answering my silent question as his hand gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"How do we do this?" I breathed, hoping he didn't hear the quaver in my voice. I watched the undead Nords walking back and forth, their unnatural eyes scanning for any disturbances. Their footsteps slapped loudly on the stone floor, causing a jolt of fear to run through me with every step they took.

"Well, ordinarily I'd say we use fire, but we don't have any. We'll just have to do what we normally do," Farkas replied quietly.

He had accepted a long time ago without question the fact that I couldn't wield magic, and I was happy he'd never made a big deal of it. Seeing the apprehensive look on my face, he added, "They're just like bandits, but a lot colder."

"Comforting," I muttered sarcastically.

Farkas took the lead as we launched at the two Draugr, slashing his blade aggressively at them. He wasn't lying, they were just like bandits, maybe a bit quicker witted. I managed to hit the sword out of my Draugr's hand with one of my own, while jabbing my other blade into its abdomen. Farkas cut the air, and decapitated his own foe. I looked down as the head rolled to my feet, and toed it with my nose crinkling in disgust.

"Look at this," Farkas mused, holding up a solid gold item that looked like a dragon claw. He had taken it from the Dunmer's hand. "No wonder he didn't want to share it."

We encountered a couple more Draugr, and a Frost Troll that we managed to slay without sustaining any major injuries, before we came to a puzzle wall. We looked around the chamber for any clues, but there were none.

"Is this the secret he was talking about, do you reckon?" I asked Farkas, my arms crossed over my chest as I stood back to examine the wall. I knew that this had to be the door to the main chamber where I would find the Dragonstone Farengar had sent me to salvage.

"Must be," Farkas replied, frowning at the wall.

"Give me that claw thing," I demanded, tilting my head as I looked at the wall.

In the centre there was what looked like a keyhole, and it's shape looked similar to the claw we had found. Farkas handed over the claw obediently while looking curiously at me. I turned the claw over in my hand, looking at it properly, and laughed at how easy the answer was now that I could see it. The answer was literally in the palm of my hand.

"Look at this," I grinned, showing Farkas the claw to placate the questioning look he was giving me. The claw, or key if you will, had the cipher we needed etched into what would be the palm.

"Well, that makes things easy," Farkas said, looking impressed.

On the other side of the wall, we found ourselves in a huge chamber. There was a steady trickle of water, and bats fluttered here and there, obviously having made this room their home. There was what looked like an altar at the opposite end of the chamber bathed in light, which we warily made our way towards. As we got closer to the altar area, I could swear I heard whispering. I stopped short and looked around uneasily for an explanation for the noise.

"What is it?" Farkas asked quietly, frowning at me.

"Can't you hear that?" I replied in an undertone, still searching for the noise. Farkas gave me a perplexed look and shook his head. "The whispering...?"

"I can't hear anything, sister," Farkas said gently, looking at me as if he doubted my sanity for a moment.

Shrugging as nonchalantly as I could, I pushed forward, trying to ignore the whispering sound and the prickle it was causing at the back of my neck. The closer we got to the altar the louder the whispers seemed to get, but I didn't say anything as Farkas still seemed unable to hear them.

When we reached the altar, we were greeted with a massive stone wall covered in some ancient script that I had never seen before.

"Look at that," I breathed, feeling unnaturally drawn to the wall as soon as I had laid eyes on it. The whispers were long forgotten as I approached the wall. I was only half aware of Farkas standing at my shoulder.

"What does it mean?" he asked, his voice sounded so far away to me.

"Here lies the guardian, keeper of the Dragonstone and a force of unending rage and darkness," I read quietly, staring at the wall. Realising that I didn't know how I had come up with that answer, I blinked in bewilderment a couple of times.

"How do you know that?" Farkas asked, sounding sceptical.

"I don't know," I answered honestly, but I simply knew that I was correct about this. I didn't know what this strange script was, but I was one hundred percent sure of the translation.

Farkas and I had been so engrossed in the wall that we had been completely unaware of the danger behind us. We didn't hear the burial crypt burst open or the slapping sound of cold, clammy feet on stone. We were only pulled out of our lull by the war axe crashing into the stone just next to my head. I jumped, shocked by the loud scraping noise, and spun around to find myself face to face with another Draugr. This one was different from the others we had come across. He wore proper armour, and what was more, he spoke. It was a feral, growling sound, and his words were in a tongue that I didn't understand, but he lifted his weapon and swung at me again.

I shrieked in panic and threw myself sideways, sprawling across the ground as Farkas launched himself at the Draugr. I watched from the cold stone floor, my heart beating so fast I thought it might burst, as Farkas fought the Draugr. Farkas was stronger, but the Draugr's lighter weapon made it easier for it to move out of the way of Farkas's slower, heavier swings. Metal clanged against metal as they fought, neither doing any real damage to the other.

"**FUS!**" Suddenly the Draugr shouted, and I watched in alarm as Farkas was pushed back to the edge of the altar, splayed across the floor. His sword whizzed across the stone and fell off the edge of the altar. I knew that I needed to move as the Draugr started towards my now defenceless Shield-Brother.

I scrambled to my feet desperately, drawing my swords as I threw myself between Farkas and the Draugr in an attempt to protect him. The Draugr heaved its axe over its head, and brought it crashing down with an incredible force. Thinking quickly, I did the only thing that seemed natural and crossed my blades to collect the axe before it could cleave me in two, but I could only resist so much of the force. I screamed in agony, tears welling in my eyes, as the axe sunk through my soft armour and into my shoulder.

It didn't feel too deep, as I had headed off most of the strength behind the blow, but it still burned into my skin like a wild fire. Sucking in a deep, steadying breath, I used every ounce of power I could muster and pushed back against the axe. The axe rose from my flesh, shiny and wet with my blood, and was forced backwards with its wielder.

The Draugr staggered back and I took my opportunity while it was off balance, flipping both of my blades to an underarm position and sinking them into the chest of the Draugr. It gave a grunt of pain and pushed against me roughly, startling me and throwing my grip from my swords and causing me to fall back in a heap. I hit the ground seconds before the Draugr, the difference being that I was still alive when I hit the ground, even if I was crying silently.

Farkas was at my side in a moment, sword in hand and ready to resume the fight. When he saw the Draugr was dead, he let out a small noise of praise for me, but I didn't hear it. My head was swimming from the pain burning in my right shoulder and I let out my own small cry of pain as I shifted slightly. Farkas dropped to his knees immediately, trying to assess the damage.

"Get the... stone," I said through gritted teeth, blinking away my fresh tears and nudging him away from me. He moved from my side reluctantly and searched the crypt for the stone. When he held it up for me to see I let out a sigh of relief, and that was the last thing I remembered seeing.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, I know it wasn't much, but please drop me a review and let me know what you think :) Stay tuned for the next chapter!


	6. Finding Courage

**A/N:** Hey guys :) Thanks for all the favourites and follows, really appreciate it. Sorry about the late upload, I try to get them up on a Thursday, but I had work last night and was way too tired when I got home. Anyway, chapter six! Enjoy, review, follow! :)

**Disclaimer: **Skyrim © Bethesda

_The sun is rising_

_The screams have gone_

_Too many have fallen_

_Few still stand tall_

_Is this the ending of what we've begun?_

_Will we remember what we've done wrong?_

_The Howling - Within Temptation_

_**Chapter Six - Finding Courage**_

* * *

Farkas berated himself as he scooped up his Shield-Sister. How had he not realized her cut was so deep? Why had he left her for a second to get that damn stone instead of tending to her wound first? Why had he been overpowered by that stupid Draugr, leaving her to fight it by herself?

He was furious at himself. She could be dead, and it would be entirely his fault. Luckily, Artemis had come a long way since she walked into Jorrvaskr months ago. If it had been that timid girl from back then, she would definitely be dead.

When he reached the entrance room of the ruins, he gently placed his sister on one of the old bed rolls and pulled out his dagger. He needed to get a better look at her cut, and get some salve on it or Vilkas would kill him. He ran the dagger's blade down the side of her armour, cutting the twine and pulling the leather away from her skin. It made a horrible squelching noise as it was pulled off of her blood and Farkas hoped it looked worse than it was, because her whole shoulder was soaked with the sticky, red liquid.

Acting fast, he pulled out a couple of phials of ointment and potions and tipped them over the wound. He wasn't as practiced as his twin, but he could at least stop the flow of the blood and tidy the wound up a bit to prevent an infection. When he got her home to Vilkas, his more dexterous twin would be able to fix her properly, Farkas told himself. Because he will get her home. She would be fine, no matter how pale or cool her skin was getting. Farkas would see to it that he got her home safely.

When he had wiped away most of the blood, Farkas wound some linen wrap tightly around his sister's torso and shoulder, covering her wound and chest. His hands were covered in dry blood, but he ignored them as he lit a fire and covered Artemis with the bed roll. He was in for a rough night.

* * *

When I roused some time later, I found myself lying on a musty, old bed roll in some dank room next to a small fire. I made to sit up, but gasped from the pain that shot through my shoulder. Farkas was at my side in the blink of an eye, pushing me down on the bed roll and glaring at me disapprovingly. I noticed I wasn't wearing my armour anymore; instead my chest and right shoulder were wrapped in linen bandages.

Farkas shoved a healing draught in my hands and told me to drink it. I did so, feeling the automatic relief from the pain. He was still glaring at me, though.

"What?" I asked, flinching at the way my voice cracked.

"I told you to get better armour," Farkas growled angrily, "I said leather was useless in battle, and that you'd get yourself killed if you kept wearing it."

"I'm not dead yet," I snapped back, sitting up and wincing at the pain that shot through my shoulder, "It's just a scratch!"

"Just a scratch," Farkas scoffed, shaking his head and pushing me back down again, "If I hadn't been here, you _would_ be dead."

"If I hadn't had to save _your_ neck, I wouldn't have been hurt," I countered angrily.

Farkas gave me a stony look but kept his mouth closed, his lips pursed in a thin line. I knew I shouldn't be arguing with him, he had obviously taken good care of me, but I didn't need to be lectured on my armour right now. For hours we didn't speak, and I drifted into an angry slumber after a while.

The next morning I was in good enough condition to travel, thanks to Farkas's use of healing poultices, so we set off for Whiterun. Although we spoke in the morning, there was still a chill in our words and we kept it short and to the point. It wasn't until we made our first stop, which I was thankful for since I was in agony but refused to say anything about it, that either of us spoke properly.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," Farkas mumbled, sitting next to me on the stump I had settled myself on. He unwound my bandages as he spoke, and examined the gash that went from my shoulder across my chest. "You just scared me for a second there."

I sighed heavily and winced as he started to apply some healing poultice.

"I'm sorry I snapped as well," I admitted, bowing my head, "I'm lucky you were there."

"As am I," Farkas replied softly. He finished tending my wound, and redressed it in silence. Things felt calmer on the way back to Whiterun after that.

We reached Whiterun long after sunset, and Farkas insisted that I go to Jorrvaskr for Vilkas to have a proper look at before taking the Dragonstone to the court mage. Vilkas was a skilled healer, apparently, and would be able to make sure my wound was properly mended.

I shuddered at the idea of giving Vilkas something else to complain about when it came to me, but Farengar would probably be asleep by now anyway, so I allowed Farkas to steer me back to Jorrvaskr.

No one was in the dining area when we reached our mead hall, which wasn't surprising because of how late it was. Farkas dragged me down to Vilkas's room, ignoring my protests that I was feeling fine all the while. I pulled on his arm petulantly as he knocked lightly on Vilkas's door, begging him to not make me go in. When Vilkas's striking voice told us to enter, sounding impatient at the disturbance so late, I swallowed hard and reluctantly followed Farkas into the room I had never visited.

"Brother, what is it?" Vilkas asked shortly, his eyes passing over me for the briefest second as I hovered behind Farkas, trying to go unnoticed.

"Our sister got herself hurt, I did what I could for her, but I think you should have a look," Farkas said, reaching out to me and pulling me into Vilkas's view properly.

I felt embarrassed to be standing in front of Vilkas as his eyes swept across my injured shoulder.

I scowled at the ground as Vilkas told Farkas to leave me with him, and Farkas just _left me there_. When I got out of this room, I was going to kill him. Vilkas came to my side, and I did my best to ignore him as he started pulling my bandages away, but it was hard to stop my body stiffening as his fingers danced across the skin of my shoulder. I did manage to suppress the shudder, though, which made me pretty proud of myself.

Vilkas tutted under his breath, before turning to his dresser and rummaging through for something. "Sit on the bed," Vilkas commanded brusquely.

"Of course," I muttered bitterly, seating myself on the very edge of the bed.

Vilkas took no notice of my attitude. Instead, he returned to my side he pushed me back on the bed and said, "This may hurt, just try not to flinch too much," before rubbing something over the wound.

I hissed at the pain it caused as tears sprang to the corners of my eyes and I bit my bottom lip so hard I tasted the metallic flavour of blood. Whatever he was rubbing over the wound smelled putrid, and it stung like he had just stabbed me with a hot poker. I managed to stay still for the most part, and after a minute the pain subsided.

"Why did you not heal this yourself?" Vilkas asked quietly, as he rubbed another salve over my wound. This one was pleasant, like gentle warm water.

"How would I have healed it?" I asked, my voice slightly shaky from the earlier pain.

"Aren't Bretons supposed to be proficient in the arcane arts?" Vilkas inquired, still rubbing the strange lotion over the wound.

"Supposed to be," I responded impassively, noticeably stiffening under Vilkas's hand. I didn't like where the conversation was headed. It wasn't as if Vilkas didn't think I was useless enough anyway.

For the first time Vilkas's eyes flicked away from my wound so he could look at my face. His silvery eyes lingered on my own blue eyes for a moment, his brow pinching ever so slightly. I felt sure he was going to question me on the subject, and I was mentally preparing myself for it, but he didn't. He turned his gaze back to my wound and didn't speak again.

I don't think I've ever appreciated him more.

"All done," Vilkas muttered a few minutes later, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over us.

I gingerly touched my shoulder and found that the gaping wound was now little more than a thin cut.

"The rest will have to heal naturally, and it will leave a scar," Vilkas told me, handing me one of his tunics, "You can change out of those bloody rags." I took it with mumbled thanks, and changed into it while Vilkas looked the other way. It was much too big, but it was comfy and it covered me up.

"Thanks, Vilkas," I muttered, feeling a bit humiliated as he walked me to his door.

"Just be more careful, sister," Vilkas replied, opening his door for me. I nodded, leaving the room. It was the first time Vilkas had called me his sister since I had joined the Companions.

The following morning, still dressed in Vilkas's tunic which I found myself rather fond of, I made my way up to Dragonsreach to give Farengar the Dragonstone. When I arrived at the mage's den, I found both Farengar and Jarl Balgruuf. I made my presences known, flashing a winning smile and the Dragonstone at Farengar, who almost squealed with excitement when I handed it over.

He snatched it from my hands as a child might snatch a tasty treat while gabbling on about how impressed he was that I had found it and how much it would help his research. The Jarl beamed at me to show he was impressed as well, but he led me from Farengar's den quietly while the mage set to work with the stone.

"Lovely outfit," Balgruuf commented, giving me an amused smile as we walked up the stairs to his study area.

"Thank you, my Jarl," I smirked, plucking at the rough fabric of the tunic.

The Jarl busied himself with some drawers while I waited patiently, examining a map of Skyrim that was dotted with a selection of blue and red flags.

"I promised a reward if you were successful," the Jarl announced, placing a coin purse beside the map, "I hope this is satisfactory. Five hundred septims."

"Thank you, my Jarl," I exclaimed, my eyes widening as I accepted my reward.

"Jarl Balgruuf," an urgent voice drew our attention to the landing of the stairs. Irileth was there with a frightened looking guard in tow, "There's been a dragon sighted."

"A dragon? Irileth, are you sure?" Balgruuf asked, striding around his desk to meet her. I followed him awkwardly, not sure of what place I had in the conversation.

"Tell him what you told me, soldier," Irileth commanded, turning to the frightened guard.

The guard was shaking from head to foot as he started to recount his tale to us, "I was patrolling the road when I saw it. It was huge, the biggest monster I've ever seen, and it was heading for the Western Watchtower. I ran to the city as fast as I could, I was sure it would swoop down on me at any moment."

Balgruuf listened patiently, but the smiling man from moments ago was replaced with a new face. One that I hadn't yet witnessed, but one I knew had made Balgruuf such a respected Jarl. He exchanged a dark look with Irileth as he dismissed the guard with praise and thanks. As the guard left, Balgruuf started speaking in a tone laden with authority.

"Irileth, gather the men and get down to the Watchtower. Artemis, I need your help again. You were at Helgen; you have more experience with dragons than anyone else here. I want you to go with Irileth."

"I've already got my men waiting at the main gate. I won't fail you, my Jarl," Irileth said dutifully, bowing to Jarl Balgruuf.

Before I had time to even process what was happening I was being swept down the stairs by Irileth, with Balgruuf's voice sailing after us, "This isn't a death or glory mission, Irileth. I need to know what we're dealing with."

Irileth's men were gathered at the gate, buzzing with excitement as we approached. A couple of curious eyes flicked to me as we joined them, but most of the men looked to Irileth as they bombarded her with questions. "You heard right!" Irileth said firmly, holding a hand up to silence her men.

"A dragon is attacking. I don't much care for where it came from or who sent it. I do know it made a mistake attacking Whiterun."

"But, Housecarl, how can we fight a dragon?" one of the guards asked doubtfully. There was a murmur of agreement, and I silently shared it.

"That's a fair question," Irileth said bracingly, "None of us have ever seen a dragon before, or expected to face one in battle. **But-**we _are_ honour bound to fight it, even if we fail. This dragon is threatening our homes, our _families_." Irileth's voice rose as she spoke, giving her men strength.

"Could you call yourselves Nords if you ran from this monster? Are you going to let me face this thing alone?" The guards gave a rumble of indignation at her words. "But there's more than our honour at stake here. Think about it! The first dragon seen in Skyrim since the last age! And the glory of killing it is _ours_! ARE YOU WITH ME?" A cheer of excitement and anticipation came from the guards at her words this time. "THEN LET'S GO KILL US A DRAGON!"

I was handed a set of armour by one of the guards that noticed I was only wearing a simple tunic, and then they were off. I scurried anxiously in their wake, hastily pulling the armour on over the tunic as I went. The armour was far too big, but I was happy to have some protection with the prospect of facing a dragon.

When we reached the Watchtower, Irileth ordered us to spread out. The dragon wasn't anywhere to be seen, but the destruction it had caused was clear evidence that it had been there and she wanted it found and killed. I walked nervously with another guard up the crumbled bridge to the tower entrance, but we only made it half way up before a frantic shout came from within, startling us both.

"No, get back! It's still around somewhere," the guard that was shouting to us was slumped against the entrance, one half of his body covered in burns and blood. We ran towards him, ignoring his advice to turn back, so we could help him. As we reached him, a horrifying roar cut the air. "Kynareth save us, here he comes again," the guard whimpered as a huge shadow covered us.

The guard I was with managed to throw me into the tower just in time. A wave of flames crashed into the side of the building, burning the man slumped in the entrance to a crisp. The remaining guard covered me on instinct, and we were both relatively unscathed.

"You should stay here, lass," the guard shouted at me, as he got to his feet again. I was only too happy to oblige, being frozen with fear and shock as it was.

I sat against the stairs of the tower with my hands covering my ears as the roaring of the dragon and the screams of soldiers raged outside the tower. I felt so pathetic, but I was unarmed and I wasn't any use with magic. I felt tears spring to my eyes, falling freely down my cheeks as I shook with fear. I should have been helping, not sitting on the ground like a child, but I wasn't a great warrior like Farkas or Vilkas.

Vilkas, he'd never forgive me if he could have seen me. I remembered his words during our first meeting. '_I knew you were just a pretty face that didn't have what it takes,_' he'd said. But I _wasn't_ just a pretty face! That's all anyone ever thought, but they were wrong. I had joined the Companions, and I had survived a dragon attack, and I would be damned if I let these men die without trying to help them!

Hastily wiping my tears away with the backs of my hands, I sprang to my feet and rushed to the entrance of the tower. A gleam of metal caught my eyes; the dead guard's sword. I picked it up, cringing at its awkward weight, before bravely moving further out of the tower.

The guards and Irileth were scattered around the tower, their bows pointing skyward as the dragon circled the middle of the tower. Irileth was the only one who seemed to be doing any damage, if truth be told. Her men were firing arrows at it, but they bounced off of the scaly skin. Irileth was using her shock magic to zap the dragon, causing it to make angry snapping noises of discomfort.

There was nothing I could do with a sword from the ground. As that thought crossed my mind, an idea struck me. It was crazy and reckless, but it was worth a shot. Fuelled by adrenaline, I hurtled back into the tower and up the stairs to the very top.

When I looked over the edge of the tower, I saw the dragon circling just below me. I watched it, as I threw one leg then the other over the wall so I was sitting on the edge of the tower. I took a deep breath, bracing myself as I watched the dragon come back around to my side of the tower. I counted to three, and then threw myself off the edge of the tower.

The wind rustled through my hair as I fell to the dragon. I landed hard on its sharp scales which cut through the soft leather pants I was wearing and grazed my skin painfully, making me cry out in surprise. The dragon gave a roar of agitation, turning sharply so that I had to quickly grab the crook of its wing to stay on. When the dragon straightened, I was able to grab at the thick spikes along its spine and inch my way up to the base of its long, reptilian neck. I couldn't hear anything through the wind and the sound of my own heart pounding in my head.

When I found myself in a stable position, I raised the sword above my head with both hands and drove it as hard as I could into the base of the dragons neck. The weapons sunk through the scales with some difficulty and I felt my breath catch as it did. This resulted in a screech of pain, an erratic beat of wings, and a splatter of warm, sticky blood over my hands.

My plan wasn't well thought through, I discovered, as the dragon started falling, and falling fast. I could do nothing more than hold on tight as we hurtled towards the ground, praying to the Nine that I'd survive the fall.

The dragon screeched and roared in panic, its wings flailing wildly, as we plummeted to the ground. As we hit the hard earth, we skidded through the dirt, causing a crater-like trail behind us. Then the dragon hit a rock and I was thrown from its back across the terrain. For a moment I was sailing through the air before I bounced along the ground and flipped awkwardly. I closed my eyes while rocks and sticks tore at my flesh as I tumbled over and over, before I came to an abrupt stop. I let out a groan of pain as I slowly opened my eyes, astounded that I was alive.

The guards were gathering around me, helping me to my feet in seconds, some were whooping and patting me on the back. "You killed it!" one of them shouted.

Most of this went unnoticed by me, though. I couldn't explain what it was, but for some reason I felt like I _needed_ to get back to the dragon, so I pushed through the guards who were celebrating my kill and jogged towards the dragon, ignoring the pain in my limbs.

The dragon was lying in a heap, obviously dead, but it was glowing strangely.

"Stay back!" Irileth shouted to me, but I ignored her. I slowed my pace as I walked to the dragon's side, watching it in awe. The scales seemed to vibrate as the dragon glowed brighter.

In seconds, the glowing skin of the dragon lifted away from the bones in small glowing flames. These flames circled me, covering my body before sinking into my very being. The flames weren't hot; they didn't burn me when they touched me. It was a hard feeling to describe, like when rain soaks into the ground giving life to the trees and flowers. As the flames withdrew into me, I felt a new kind of energy within myself, not like a new strength, more like a sense of completion. Like I had been reunited with something I had lost a long time ago.

It was over in a matter of seconds, and I was left standing beside the dragon's massive bones.

"You're _Dragonborn_," one of the guards breathed in awe as they all approached me.

* * *

**A/N:** Please, don't forget to review or follow or whatever :)


	7. Propositions

**A/N: **Hey guys :) Chapter Seven! Thanks for all the reviews. I'm actually happy people are having an actual say instead of insisting it's great. Someone said something about being sick of having female protagonists, and I can totally agree with you there, but the fact is most fanfic writers are female, and they model their characters around themselves for the most part. Artemis isn't modelled around me, though, well I at least try to not model her around me, but I'm sure we share some qualities.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Please review, or follow, or favourite. Whatever! I appreciate it greatly!

Thanks, xQueen Nothingx, for being an awesome beta. You're amazing!

**Disclaimer:** Skyrim © Bethesda.

_Went back home again_

_This sucks gotta pack up and leave again_

_Say goodbye to all my friends_

_Can't say when I'll be there again_

_Avril Lavigne - Mobile_

_**Chapter Seven - Propositions**_

* * *

Ulfric paused, apprehensively listening to the thunderous thu'um of the Greybeards summoning the Dragonborn. Galmar and Ralof fell silent as well, and even after the sound had died down. For a long moment none of them spoke, and Ulfric turned things over in his head. If there was a Son of Skyrim out there born of dragon blood, then Ulfric wanted him by his side for this war.

"Jarl Ulfric," Ralof started, breaking the silence that had fallen over the war room.

Ulfric looked up at the young Stormcloak, an idea forming in his head. "I have a job for you, brother."

* * *

"_Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart. I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes. With the Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art. Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes!_"

I couldn't count how many times the song had broken out amongst the residents of Jorrvaskr, and every time it had been sung tankards of mead and ale were raised in my honour. Through most of the outbreaks, I had sat in my quiet corner with Athis, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. I was pretty sure the companions were too drunk to take too much notice of me, anyway. I was thankful, because this left me to my thoughts.

I was struggling to wrap my head around my situation. Since killing the dragon my mind had been buzzing, and I had been unable to focus on anything for an extended period of time. I did know I had gone from an average Breton, and whelp of the Companions, to suddenly the most popular person in Whiterun. After the earth shaking summons of the Greybeards the people in the cobbled lanes of the city had cheered for me as I'd been ushered up to Dragonsreach, and a murmur of the amazing power I possessed followed me. In Dragonsreach, Jarl Balgruuf had done nothing to calm my reeling mind as he explained briefly what it was to be Dragonborn, a slayer of dragons and wielder of the Voice. If anything, I was left more confused.

"So, when are you leaving for High Hrothgar?" Athis asked me quietly, drawing me from my own head. I noticed the apprehension in his voice.

He, like many others, was disheartened about my leaving Jorrvaskr, even if it was only temporary. I wasn't overly in love with the idea myself. I didn't _want_ to leave, this was my home now. Jorrvaskr was the first place I'd actually called home since I left High Rock when I was fifteen. I had to answer the Greybeard's summons, though. According to Jarl Balgruuf, they could properly explain what I was and train me how to use my gift.

"In a couple of days," I responded softly, "I just need to organize new armour with Eorlund." I had planned on seeing him after my visit to Dragonsreach, but that hadn't panned out so well. I was still wearing Vilkas's too big tunic with a leather tie drawing it in at the waist over my soft leather trousers. I had discarded the guards armour as soon as possible, though it had saved me a decent amount of injury.

Vilkas had been annoyed when I'd shown up at Jorrvaskr with cuts and bruises covering my body, but he had patched me up decently. My arm was sore from where I'd landed on it, but there was little that Vilkas could do for me there.

"And you're sure you don't want company?"

"I'm sure," I smiled, watching Farkas talking animatedly with Aela, "I don't know how long I'll be, and I can't take anyone else away from Jorrvaskr for such an indefinite amount of time. Skyrim needs its Companions."

"And the Companions need their Dragonborn," Athis informed me, giving me a squeeze, "So don't dally."

"I won't," I promised.

The set of steel armour that adorned me two days later cost a shiny septim, but Farkas assured me it was worth every coin I'd paid. I frowned as I stood in the courtyard, stretching my arms out and drawing them in again, not quite believing Farkas who was watching me with affectionate eyes.

"It's so restricting," I commented, twisting and flinching as the steel pressed against my hip, "Not to mention heavy."

"You'll get used to it," Farkas told me, walking around me and checking that I had everything sitting right. He stopped at my side and loosened one of the buckles a notch. The armour fell away from my hip a fraction and I sighed in relief. "You don't need to have it as tight as leather. Just snug, or you'll limit your movement."

"My movement will already be limited," I said dryly, "How am I supposed to fight anything in this? I can hardly hold it all up."

"You should probably stay here a few days longer," Farkas said thoughtfully, extending my arm and bending it at the elbow before nodding his approval.

"But the Greybeards summoned me almost three days ago," I protested.

"Those old priests aren't going anywhere, trust me. You'll need some time to get used to the weight of your armour, and it's better to do it here where you're safe than out on the road against bandits or dragons. Bend over." Farkas checked my flexibility as I bent forward, trying to touch my toes.

"Fine," I sighed in defeat. He did have a point, even if the delay upset me. My movement would be slowed drastically with the extra weight, and all I needed was to overbalance or be a second too slow while fighting a bandit and I'd be as good as dead. It was better to be safe than sorry, after all.

I straightened and Farkas told me that he was done fitting the armour, I'd just have to try and get used to the weight.

I was departing Whiterun, finally, but I needed a horse first. Jarl Balgruuf had told me to head towards Ivarstead, which was a two day journey by horse. From there I'd be able to climb the seven thousand steps to High Hrothgar. It was the long route but it was also the safest. I could clobber my way through the thick terrain and climb the large mountains, and it would be quicker, but I wasn't really up for the risk. So, now I stood in the Whiterun stables, ready to buy a horse to for my journey.

"A thousand septims?" I exclaimed loudly, looking at the stable hand in disbelief, "For a seven year old horse? You're mad!"

"Take it or leave it, lass," the stable hand replied nonchalantly, "If you don't buy 'er, someone else will."

I practically growled as I handed over the coin for the horse. This was highway robbery, I was sure of it, but I needed a horse. It would save time, and it would help with my armour, which I was still struggling with much to Farkas's distress. But I had refused to put off my trip to High Hrothgar any longer. It wasn't as if I couldn't afford the horse, but how much use would I get out of such an old steed?

The stable hand left me with the dappled mare, my coin jingling in his purse as he walked away. I looked at the horse, her brown eyes blinking as she turned her head to look at me. I stretched out my hand tentatively and placed it on her muzzle.

She sniffed my hand briefly before pushing her nose against it with affection. It was a small gesture, but it was the start of our bond, and it made me smile. My annoyance at the cost of my new friend evaporated instantly. Lotte would be worth the coin I had spent.

Lotte showed a lot of resilience for an old horse, and she made a great companion. She carried me effortlessly across the country, not showing any signs of fatigue as she galloped over the beaten track. I did stop to rest her a fair bit, scared that I would run her down if I pushed too hard, but she never showed any signs of struggle. We stopped for the nights, and she would stand beside the fire while I brushed her down. She was like a personal guard, and I found myself talking to her on more than one occasion.

It took us a total of three days on the road before I spotted Ivarstead in the distance. I eased Lotte into a walk as we got closer to the small village and spotted a pair of Legion soldiers. I was wary of them, remembering that Hadvar had warned me to stay clear of them for a while. I wondered if I would be recognized, but it didn't seem likely to me. I had just been a nameless addition to the chopping block at the time.

As we got closer to the pair, they looked around at us with interest.

"Halt," the male of the pair called to me when I was close enough to them. He was Cyrodilic by appearance, his dark features were sharp in that typical Imperial way, and he looked to only be a few years older than me at most. I pulled Lotte up before them and looked down at the pair, impressed with myself that I was able to look down at someone in Skyrim for a change. "Where are you heading, traveller?" the soldier asked me.

"Ivarstead," I replied uncertainly, frowning down at him.

"What is your business in Ivarstead?" the woman, a Nord by the look of her, asked me, her tone a lot less welcoming than her companions.

"Why do you want to know?" I asked, feeling annoyed by the disdain the woman had shown me. What did it matter to her why I wanted to go to Ivarstead? Last time I checked that wasn't a crime.

"We're stationed here awaiting the Dragonborn's arrival," the male told me eagerly, earning a look of disapproval from the woman. That was clearly supposed to be kept quiet.

"Why?" I asked. I hoped I wasn't in any kind of trouble just for being the Dragonborn. Jarl Balgruuf and the guards had been awed by the fact, surely it couldn't be a bad thing?

"That is none of your concern, citizen," the woman informed me rudely. The way she spoke made it clear she thought I was beneath her, and I wondered momentarily if it was because I was a Breton.

"I think it is," I snapped back angrily, unable to stop myself, "Since _I'm _the Dragonborn."

"You're the Dragonborn?" the woman asked disbelievingly, one of her eyebrows raising, "Really?"

"Yes," I affirmed, giving her what I hoped was a fierce glare.

"Well," the male carried on, giving his companion a pointed look before looking back up at me with a winning smile, "We've been waiting for you, to deliver a message from General Tullius."

"And this message is?" I frowned, remembering the short, greying General from Helgen. What did he want with me?

"General Tullius would like to ask you to join the Legion, ma'am," the soldier informed me eagerly, "To help fight the Stormcloaks."

"Right," I frowned, my hand absently stroking Lotte's mane as I considered the message. The hypocrisy of the situation was ridiculous, but then I guessed the General wasn't aware of exactly who the Dragonborn was. Would he even recognize me as the prisoner from Helgen if he saw me? It wasn't as if we'd spoken, or interacted in any real way. I'd just been another number.

The pair of Legion soldiers looked at me expectantly, and I realized they wanted an answer then and there. "Well, you can tell your General Tullius that the Dragonborn is very sorry, but she respectfully declines," I told them, giving the male an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry to hear that," the male soldier replied, but nodded his consent for me to pass, "If you change your mind, General Tullius will be happy to see you in Solitude. Safe travels, Dragonborn."

I nudged Lotte into a walk again, happy to get away from the Legionnaires, but the female had something to say as I retreated.

"I just hope you tell that Stormcloak waiting in Ivarstead the same thing," she called, sounding irritated.

I frowned as I continued on my way, ignoring the woman. So I would have to look forward to this conversation again in Ivarstead, great. Being the Dragonborn seemed to be attracting a lot of attention. I didn't like the idea of the Legion or the Stormcloaks wanting to use me as some kind of poster girl for their agenda, which is exactly what I suspected they wanted. After all, Jarl Balgruuf had told me the Dragonborn was a symbol of great power amongst the Nords of Skyrim. Something they could really rally behind.

As I thought about it, it shouldn't have been so surprising for me to find the Legionnaires waiting for me.

* * *

Ralof was relatively unhappy with his latest assignment, and was thinking about it as he swilled the mead around his tankard. He'd been sitting in the same spot in Vilemyr Inn for five days now, waiting for this Dragonborn to come wandering through the village. He was beginning to feel like he might have missed the Dragonborn while he'd been travelling from Windhelm, but he didn't enjoy the thought of returning to Jarl Ulfric to tell him so.

Apart from that possibility, Ralof was very bored. He'd never much cared for sitting still, having always been a man of action. Ulfric knew that as well, though, and this assignment was the perfect punishment for his disobedience at Helgen.

When Ralof had finally made his way back to Windhelm after the incident at Helgen, Ulfric had been sure to express his displeasure. Ulfric had admonished him for risking his own life to save the Breton girl and defying a direct order to leave her behind. Ralof had countered that she was a victim in the mess just as they had been, if not more, and he was merely acting as a free man by aiding her, and isn't that what Ulfric wanted? Free men in control of their own actions and destinies?

Ulfric had told him that a pretty face wasn't worth risking the life of such a promising young soldier. When Ralof had argued it had nothing to do with her looks, Ulfric had dismissed him and forced him to wait in Windhelm rather than return to one of the Stormcloak camps until an appropriate assignment showed up. Well, Ulfric's idea was working. Ralof was beginning to get stir crazy.

As he thought about his conversation with Jarl Ulfric regarding the young woman, Ralof heard the door of the Inn swing open. He looked up from the honey coloured liquid in his tankard to see who had entered and almost dropped his drink. It was as if she had walked straight out his memory. Sure, she was wearing steel armour and looked less frightened, but he was sure that was the prisoner from Helgen. He observed as the petite woman walked to the bar, running her hand through her dark trusses as she went. He was momentarily stunned when he heard her speak to the Inn Keeper.

"Hello," she greeted the man, her voice carrying around the practically empty tavern. Its cadence was silvery, and reminded Ralof of softly ringing bells. "I was wondering if you could tell me anything about High Hrothgar? I'm heading up there, and if there's anything I should know, I'd like to be prepared."

So she was the one he had been waiting for. This young woman was the Dragonborn. Ulfric would be eating his words when he found out Ralof had actually saved the Dragonborn's life! Ralof waited patiently for the Inn Keeper to tell her about the dangers of the climb she was planning, not wanting to interrupt them straight away.

He was thinking of how to go about this. He had been prepared for a speech about honour and strength to convince the Dragonborn, but that was under the impression that the Dragonborn would be a Nord. Knowing the Dragonborn was a Breton put a spigot in the works.

When the woman walked away from the bar with a tankard of drink, Ralof decided it was time to make his move. She seated herself in one of the chairs by the fire, and Ralof smirked at the way she flinched in her armour. Obviously it was new, because it was relatively free of scuffs and scratches. He waltzed over to the seat next to hers and threw himself into it, looking at the woman with a confident grin. She was regarding him with apprehension when he first looked at her, but when she saw his face properly, her soft features twisted to a look of surprise.

"Hello, prisoner," Ralof smiled.

* * *

I knew my jaw was hanging open unceremoniously, but I could do little to help it. My brain was struggling to catch up with real events. I had been expecting a Stormcloak to confront me, obviously, but I hadn't expected to recognize him. It wasn't as if the Legion had sent Hadvar to recruit me, after all. But here he sat, the kind, blond Stormcloak who had saved my life in Helgen. Ralof of Riverwood, I remembered clearly. I was pretty sure I'd never forget that name, or Hadvar, or Ulfric Stormcloak. The day was burned into my memory forever, every little detail about it stood out sharply.

"You know, if you keep making that face it might stick," Ralof warned me, his finger tips resting under my chin as he pushed my mouth closed. His actions startled me, as I hadn't been paying attention, but I jumped at the touch as heat rushed to my cheeks.

"Better," he laughed, withdrawing his hand as his sapphire eyes twinkled with amusement.

"You're alive," I commented stupidly, my first thought rushing out of my mouth before I even processed it.

"So are you," he chuckled.

"That was stupid," I cringed, "I just didn't expect to see you here. The Legionnaires told me there'd be a Stormcloak here, but..."

"The Legion, eh?" Ralof repeated, frowning at me.

"I'm not with them," I amended quickly, realizing how that must have sounded to him.

"That's good," Ralof told me, his smile coming back, "I'd hate to think I'd wasted my time."

"I'm afraid you still might have," I told him with a wry smile, "If you're here to try and convince the Dragonborn to join to Stormcloaks, the Dragonborn isn't interested."

"Oh, and you know the Dragonborn do you?" Ralof asked, quirking a brow at me. I frowned at his question and he laughed. "I'm playing with you, prisoner."

"Artemis," I corrected him, joining in his laughter.

"Artemis," he tested the name with a small smile, "Unusual name for a Breton."

"Yes, but we both know you're not here for small talk," I said, giving him another wry smile. I was somewhat disappointed to be talking with Ralof on these grounds. I had hoped to see him again, but I had imagined it to be a much more casual and fun affair.

"No," Ralof sighed wistfully, the smile falling from his handsome features, "Alas, I was sent to deliver a message to the Dragonborn."

"Let me guess, Ulfric Stormcloak wants the Dragonborn to join his cause?" I asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"That would be the message," Ralof nodded.

"Look, Ralof, I'm sorry, I really am, but I don't want to get involved," I told Ralof earnestly, hoping he could understand at least.

"But, those Imperials were all set to behead you," Ralof argued, firing up a little, "Surely you want revenge on them!"

"No," I shook my head, "I'm alive because of a combined effort of a Stormcloak and a Legionnaire. I won't set myself against either side. I could easily argue that it was the Stormcloaks fault that I was even picked up in the first place."

"Perhaps you're right," Ralof frowned, "But, those Imperials left you for dead when that dragon attacked!"

"And thanks to you, I was rescued. Don't forget they were going to execute me. What did it matter how I died?" I asked, "The past is the past, Ralof."

"Is there nothing I can say that will convince you?" Ralof asked me forlornly, making me feel bad for saying no to him. I did owe him my life, after all.

"Unfortunately, no there isn't. I'm sorry," I replied gently, giving him an apologetic smile.

"Can you at least promise me something?" Ralof sighed, looking me in the eyes.

"What?" I asked, staring back into the sapphire blue depths.

"If you won't join us, don't join them."

"I won't," I promised.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, I hope that was interesting for you all. Please drop me a review and let me know what you thought :)


	8. Learning

**A/N: **Hope you all had a good Christmas :) Here's the next chapter! If anyone is even reading this... Oh well!

**Disclaimer: **Skyrim © Bethesda.

_I can hear the voice _

_But I don't want to listen_

_Strap me down and tell me I'll be alright_

_I can feel the subliminal need _

_To be one with the voice_

_And make everything alright_

_Disturbed - Voices_

**_Chapter Eight - Learning_**

* * *

Ralof had stayed with me for a drink before we parted ways. He had to report back to Ulfric Stormcloak, and I had to get up to High Hrothgar to answer the Greybeards summons. The climb had taken me all day, but I did make it up the seven thousand steps to High Hrothgar. I couldn't say I found it overly impressive when I arrived.

The monastery was cold, even by Skyrim standards. As soon as I'd pushed the heavy door open I felt the temperature drop noticeably. I started to shiver uncontrollably, and I wasn't entirely sure if it was due simply to the coldness of the place, or if it had more to do with the eerie silence. There was simply no noise. Not a whisper could be heard, and as I let out a shaky breath I heard my teeth chatter loudly, way too loudly.

I decided to proceed further into the building, hoping to find one of the monks that had summoned me. In the semi-darkness it was hard to see much of anything, but eventually I did come across someone. A man wearing a grey, hooded robe was kneeling in the middle of a narrow hall, his hands together as if he were praying.

"Hello?" I said tentatively, my voice barely more than a whisper; yet it sounded as if I'd yelled in the pressing silence.

The hooded man turned to look at up at me, the light from the candles that lined the passage lighting up his lined, ancient face. He watched me for a long moment, and I felt anxiety building up as the seconds passed. Unable to take the silence any longer, I spoke.

"Are you one of the Greybeards?"

The man simply nodded, and turned his face away from me again.

"I was summoned," I told him awkwardly, fretting that I had taken too long and that I would be turned away, "I know it was a couple of days ago, but I came as soon as I could."

"Ah, do not mind Master Borri," another voice said quietly, making me jump. I whipped around and found another old man wearing the same kind of robe watching me with interest.

"So, the Dragonborn arrives in our monastery."

"Y-yes," I replied nervously. I waited, feeling increasing unease, as he studied me.

"Welcome to High Hrothgar, Dragonborn. I am Master Arngeir. Please, follow me."

I followed Arngeir, chewing my lip nervously as I did. I didn't like the silence of High Hrothgar, it only served to keep me on edge. When Arngeir stopped, I found myself standing in the main entrance of the monastery again, and I wondered if he was going to ask me to leave.

"You are quiet. I assume there is much you wish to know?" Arngeir asked, kneeling on the floor and indicating that I do the same.

Instantly, I was on my knees, sitting back on my heels and thinking about what he had asked. There was a lot I wanted to know. "What am I?" I asked after a long moment, deciding that that was a good starting point.

"You are a Dragonborn," Arngeir answered, making me frown at him in confusion. I already knew that, but what did it mean?

"That is to say, you are a mortal, born of the dragons' blood. A creation of Akatosh. Your blood gives you the ability to speak the language of the dragons."

"Jarl Balgruuf said I could Shout," I said, "What does that mean? Is that the language of the dragons?"

"Yes," Arngeir nodded, "You possess the gift of the Thu'um, or Shout. This means you can learn to use your Voice as the dragons do. When a dragon speaks, it can use its Voice to create flames, or ice, or any number of other powers. You are able to do the same thing."

"How?" I asked, trying to imagine myself Shouting and spewing a mouthful of fire. It seemed like a pretty wild dream, and nothing more than that.

"When a dragon dies, you are able to absorb its soul," Arngeir started to explain.

"Is that what I did with the dragon that attacked Whiterun?" I asked, unable to keep from interrupting.

"Indeed it is," Arngeir confirmed, seemingly unbothered by my interruption, "By absorbing the soul of a deceased dragon, you also gain all of their knowledge. This may cause you some discomfort and confusion, and you may not be able to clearly recognise all of the dragons thoughts, but you will be able to learn Words of Power if you concentrate hard enough and use them as the dragons do."

"But, I didn't learn any Words from the dragon in Whiterun," I mumbled, my cheeks flushing, "I didn't learn anything. I just felt really confused, like everything didn't make sense."

"That is not uncommon. As I said, you will experience confusion and discomfort from the dragon's knowledge as it settles in your mind. But, we have summoned you here to teach you how to decipher the dragons thoughts so that you may learn to use your gift. We will teach you the Way of the Voice."

The Way of the Voice turned out to be hours and hours of meditation. I wasn't very good at it, if truth be told. Arngeir kept reprimanding me for losing focus so easily, but I felt stupid sitting on the freezing stone floor trying to 'hear the dragon's thoughts within myself.'

"You aren't taking this seriously, Dragonborn," Arngeir sighed one morning when I had started humming a tune under my breath.

"I'm sorry," I apologised quickly, feeling my cheeks heat up, "I just don't understand how this is meant to help at all."

"I have already explained, if you can master your mind-"

"I'll be able to understand the dragons' thoughts," I finished, "I know, but what if I can't?"

"You can, but you need to focus," Arngeir commanded.

Sighing, I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind of all distractions. It was hard, because I kept thinking about how cold I was, or how much I was missing Jorrvaskr, but eventually my mind calmed. Then, for the first time, something came straight to the forefront of my mind. A word echoed around in the stillness, and I felt my lips part as I whispered the word.

"_Fus_."

"You've done it," Arngeir praised softly, drawing me back out of my own mind. I was surprised by the darkness and the mess of knocked over furniture. "You have looked into the dragons thoughts and drawn a Word of power from them. Fus, or Force in the mortal tongue."

"What does that Shout do?" I asked, watching curiously as Arngeir relit the candles around us.

"It is part of the phrase Force Balance Push. It is a Thu'um that is used to force opponents off balance, and push them away. Of course, until you learn Balance and Push, the Thu'um will be weak. We will teach you the rest, however."

"You know how to Shout?" I asked, frowning at Arngeir. He hadn't told me that, and I wondered why. It made me feel a bit irritated.

"Yes, we Greybeards have devoted our lives to learning the Way of the Voice. It has taken us years of our lives to master our Thu'ums, and now our Voices are strong. So strong that Masters Borri, Einarth, and Wulfgar are no longer able to speak to normal people without devastating consequence," Arngeir told me.

"Why didn't you just teach me then, instead of making me sit here and think for hours?" I asked, trying to keep my annoyance out of my voice.

"We had to be sure that you were Dragonborn. We needed to know that you could draw out the Words from a dragon's thoughts. You have shown us that you can, and now we will teach you the rest of that particular phrase. When you leave here, however, you will need to be able to decipher the Words on your own, and learning how to do so is just as important."

I frowned at the implication that I would still be meditating, but accepted it with the plus side of learning Shouts directly from the Greybeards.

The hours meditating seemed like heaven, however, when Master Einarth tried to teach me the Word for Balance. I tried so hard, but it took me almost a week before I was able to throw Einarth off balance using Ro. Arngeir kept up a constant lecture about using my mind, and hearing the Word inside myself before I could project it, but all that did was irritate me so much that it was almost impossible to concentrate on what I was doing.

"_Ro_."

Einarth stumbled backwards and I clapped my hand over my mouth in surprise. Then, realising what had happened, I smiled into my hands triumphantly. It felt as if a huge weight had been lifted, finally having produced the Thu'um.

"I did it," I announced happily, earning an approving nod from Einarth.

"Very good," Arngeir commented, stepping forward, "It seems that your training is going well. I think it is time for your final trial."

"Final trial?" I quirked a brow at him. my triumph dissolving quickly and being replaced with a sense of foreboding.

"Yes, Dragonborn. We wish for you to travel to Ustengrav and retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. This will be a great test for you, but when you return with the Horn we will be able to recognise you formally as Dragonborn."

"And where exactly is Ustengrav?" I enquired, trying to hide my displeasure at his request.

"It is Northeast of Morthal."

"When am I going?" I sighed, bowing my head. I wasn't looking forward to trudging through the marsh lands around Morthal.

"You should leave immediately," Arngeir advised me.

The next morning I packed my things and set off. It took me two days to reach Morthal, where I handed Lotte over to the Inn Keeper with some gold for her board. I made my way into the marsh lands on foot and found Ustengrav easily enough, mostly due to the noise of the bandits that were using it as a hideout.

Without Farkas I was hesitant to engage the bandits in a fight, but I needed to get past them to enter the ruins. Steeling myself, I crept around the outside of their camp, knowing I could only take one by surprise. I needed to choose carefully. I sized the bandits up, looking at their weapons for more of an idea who would be the best to get rid of first. One bandit had a two handed war axe, and wore heavy steel armour not too dissimilar from my own, the others had smaller weapons and wore only hide armour. My choice was made.

Not wasting another moment, I slunk out of the shadows as quietly as I could, holding my breath, and advanced on the unsuspecting bandits. They were talking loudly among themselves, which allowed me to get very close, and ensured they couldn't hear my heart as it hammered against my ribs.

As I approached, I had a brilliant idea. One of the bandits weapons was just resting on the ground beside him, and it was within arms reach for me. I slowly and quietly picked up the sword, watching the bandits closely, before bringing it up and using it to slit the heavily armoured bandits throat.

The chaos that erupted was instantaneous, but I had to admit that it was far better than the suspense of waiting to be found. The bandit I had taken the sword from looked around in confusion, but the other bandit was already on me. Our weapons clashed furiously, but I was quicker than him, and in a matter of seconds my sword was piercing his chest. I felt the metal grind against his bones as I rammed the sword into his abdomen, and it made my stomach roll slightly before I let go of the sword and let the bandit fall to the ground.

Unsheathing my own sword, I turned ready to advance on the other bandit, but he was gone. I looked around, frustrated that he had got away from me. I couldn't see any trace of him, and after a few minutes of squinting into the dark I accepted that he had fled with his life while he could. Hopefully he would stumble across a sabre cat.

I took a moment to catch my breath and wipe some of the blood off my hands before I entered the ruins of Ustengrav.

The ruins were silent, so silent they made High Hrothgar seem noisy. As I walked carefully through the stone passages, I contemplated whether it was the anticipation of almost certain death that gave the ruins such a heavy silence. My ears strained to catch any noise, but all I could hear as I got further and further into the ruin was the horribly loud scraping of my own steel boots against the floor.

Then I heard it. A strange slapping noise, like bare feet on stone. I knew what it was, and that only made the prospect more terrifying for me. It was the unmistakable sound of draugr.

Sure enough, as I peered around the next corner, I was faced with two draugr walking back and forth down the passage blocking my way. I watched them briefly, trying to get used to their rhythm and talking myself into the fight.

As one of the draugr walked towards my corner I forced myself to spring out and attack. The draugr growled in surprise, but I was too quick for him to do much more. He was finished in a matter of seconds, but the other was advancing of me, its feral growls bouncing around the passage. I swung my sword powerfully and it met the draugr's axe with a loud clang. I felt the vibration of the run through my arm before pulling my sword back and cutting air again. This time I didn't meet the axe on my way through, and my sword slashed across the draugr's bare abdomen. It snarled in pain, and stumbled back before falling to its knees. I watched it as it glared up at me before falling forward on the stone, dead.

The silence filled the air deafeningly again, sending chills up my spine. I shook my shoulders, telling myself the sooner I found the horn the sooner I could get out of Ustengrav.

I pressed on cautiously, trying to make as little noise as possible. Every sound caught my ears as I crept slowly through the stone halls, and eventually I heard running water. Curiously, I looked around for the source, and found it as I came out into a cavernous space. I could see the waterfall, but I ignored it finding that it was more off putting than beautiful. I found it frustrating, as it made so much noise and I couldn't hear much of anything beyond it.

I ended up coming to a dead end, however. A puzzle stood between me and the next chamber of the ruins. Three standing stones lined before a series of drop gates. Each gate would rise in correspondence to me touching a stone, but would fall back down shortly after.

I tried running at the gates, only to crash into the solid bars as they fell back down and made me fall on my backside. I tried this again and again in different sequences, hoping something would change. I tried touching the stones for a longer period of time to see if that would make any difference to the amount of time the gates stayed up. I even took off my heavy armour to see if I could run faster without it.

Nothing worked. I was there for hours racking my brains and getting more and more frustrated with each passing hour. At one point I kicked the sturdy gate with my boot, and that resulted in me hopping around the chamber yelping in pain.

In the end, I sunk to the ground with tears of frustration in my eyes. Was this the test of the Dragonborn? This stupid puzzle? Could the Dragonborn figure this out with the sheer power of their voice? Was it an ancient dragon secret of some kind? I let out a shuddering sob as I rubbed my tired eyes. If I couldn't manage this, did that mean that I _wasn't_ the Dragonborn after all?

I heard Arngeir telling me to focus, to master my mind, and I allowed my eyes to flutter closed while pushing all thoughts from my mind. It took some time, but eventually my mind was still. The calmness overtook me, and like ripples on still water a word hummed quietly in my ears. In my mind I saw trees speeding past me, as I seemingly flew through the forest. I knew this wasn't my mind, but the mind of the dragon I had slain. The word got louder in my ears, and I knew it was exactly what I needed to get past the gates.

Readying myself at the first stone with a new determination, I launched forward. My hands darted out to tap each of the cool stones as I passed, and as I slapped the last one I Shouted, "_**WULD!**_" And it worked! I was through the gates. After hours and hours of mind numbing failure I was finally back on track. I couldn't help myself, I let out a shout of triumph that made dust fall from the chambers ceiling and did a small jig. The whole ruin seemed a little brighter to me after that.

Feeling better about things, I pressed on. I came to a rigged floor that shot flames into the air when I stepped on the sinking tiles. I screeched in pain the first time it happened, and jumped back with burns along both of my legs. The only safe path across the passage was against the wall, so I pressed myself against it and shuffled slowly along.

When I made it across the passage I found myself in a large hall with a narrow walkway across a shallow pool of water leading to a pedestal at the other end. I presumed the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller was situated on the pedestal, so I took a tentative step onto the narrow walkway and deep rumbling sound started up.

I took a panicked step back, and gaped around the room as my heart raced. The water on either side of the walkway was bubbling as something broke the surface. Stone figures were rising on either side of the room, they looked like dragon heads. When four of them had risen above the surface the rumbling subsided, and the stones stood perfectly still, as if they had been there the entire time.

With my heart still hammering in my chest, I ever so cautiously made my way across the walkway. The point between my shoulder blades itched, as if someone's eyes were upon me, but as I looked around I found no one.

When I made it to the end of the chamber, and looked up at the platform the horn should have been resting on, I frowned in confusion. The problem was, there was no horn. There was a folded piece of paper where the horn should be, and I reached with tentative fingers to pick it up.

I was relieved when nothing happened after I took the note, as I had half expected the podium to explode or something along those lines. I unfolded the paper and my eyes ran across the text. As I read, my face grew hot. My bottom lip trembled furiously as I crumpled the note in my hand and threw it to the side.

_Dragonborn,_

_I need to speak to you. Urgently._

_Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you._

_A friend._

I really hated being the Dragonborn.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, wasn't that fun. Don't you feel bad for Artemis? Please leave a review! :)


	9. Delphine

**A/N: **Happy New Year everyone :) Hope you all had spectacular celebrations. I've been so busy with work, I had 44 hours this week! /is exhausted. Anyway, here's the newest chapter :) Hope you all enjoy. Drop me a review or follow the story!

**Disclaimer: **Skyrim © Bethesda

_She said what I was supposed to think_

_Thank God for freedom_

_Thank God for liberation_

_Blindside - Cute Boring Love_

_**Chapter Nine - Delphine**_

* * *

"So, the little girl from Helgen is the fabled Dragonborn," Ulfric mused quietly, looking down at Ralof who had returned to the Palace of Kings with the news that the Dragonborn had declined his offer. Ulfric found it hard to believe; the girl wasn't even a Nord, and she certainly wasn't legend material.

Ralof waited in silence, watching Ulfric mull over the information. He was apprehensive about what his leader would have to say about Artemis. It wasn't hard to tell that Ulfric didn't think much of her in Helgen, and even now he seemed more than disappointed to learn that she was the Dragonborn.

"She owes you her life," Ulfric frowned, "And yet you still failed to bring her to Windhelm, brother."

Ralof bowed his head, feeling shamed by his leader.

"I have to wonder if you even tried?" Ulfric inquired.

Ralof looked back up at Ulfric, ready to defend himself, "Artemis doesn't-"

"Artemis?" Ulfric sneered, cutting Ralof off.

"That's her name," Ralof muttered.

Ulfric fell silent again and watched Ralof carefully. He knew the young Stormcloak was attracted to her, that much was obvious, but had that been enough to influence his efforts of obtaining her allegiance? Ralof was charming enough, Nord women swooned over him, but what about the Dragonborn? Had he applied his charm when he'd spoken to her? Ulfric felt sure that if he had the Dragonborn would be here now. She had seemed equally interested in the Stormcloak, after all.

"Find her," Ulfric said finally, deciding he wouldn't be taking no for an answer. Ralof would just have to try harder.

"Find her?" Ralof repeated, frowning, "And when I find her?"

"Convince her."

* * *

I set off for Riverwood as soon as I made it back to Lotte. I was half tempted to head to Whiterun, but my rage spurred me to ride straight to my destination. The sooner I confronted this, _friend,_ the better.

I stopped for very little rest, and Lotte didn't seem overly impressed as I rode her late into the evenings, but we made it into Riverwood only two days later. It was late and pouring with icy rain when Lotte galloped across the bridge and into the small village. I didn't slow her until we were directly outside of the Inn, where I tied her to the fence before making my way inside.

The warmth from the fire didn't reach the chill in my bones from the rain as I walked towards the bar. I received a lot of odd stares as I passed people, whether or not it was the fact that I was covered in mud and soaked to the bone I didn't know or care. The man at the bar regarded me curiously as I approached.

"Can I help you?" he asked me in a deep voice.

"I want the attic room," I informed him curtly, chucking a handful of gold on the bar. It was such a rude gesture for me that I almost surprised myself. Almost.

"We don't have an attic room," he told me, looking perplexed.

"Please tell me you're joking," I cried, a touch of hysteria cutting through my tone.

"Is everything ok here?" a woman only a few inches taller than me asked, warning clear in her firm voice as she appeared next to the barman.

"This one says she wants the _attic_ room," the barman told the small woman offhandedly. They both regarded me carefully, and I wondered briefly how crazy I looked soaked to the bone, eyes bulging out of my head as I demanded a room that didn't exist.

"Do you, now?" she murmured after a moment, "Well, we don't have an attic room, but I'll give you the one on the left." She indicated to a door.

"If you don't have an attic room, don't worry about it," I snapped, starting to scoop up my coin. If I _ever_ found out who took that damn horn, I'd send them straight to Oblivion!

"That room is just as good, I assure you," the woman told me with a hard, pointed look. Her hand reached out to stop me picking up my gold. Apparently, I would have to take the room on the left whether I wanted it or not.

I accepted the fact and stalked into the room in a huff, slamming the wooden door behind me. Whoever had taken that horn had sent me on a wild goose chase, and they were bound to be laughing about it now. What if someone was waiting to ambush the Dragonborn when they left this Inn, and the attic room had been their way to identify the Dragonborn? Well, why wouldn't they have just waited at Ivarstead like the Legion or the Stormcloaks?

I kicked the end table and hurt my foot before letting out a snarl and sitting on the edge of the bed. My head fell into my hands as I took deep, calming breaths to keep the tears that were threatening to spill at bay.

"So, you're the one the Greybeards are so interested in," a voice carried. I had been so involved in my own anger I hadn't heard my door open at all, but now the woman from the bar stood before me, looking down her nose at me. "I think you're looking for this."

She held something out to me, and I snatched it out of her hand. A horn. The Horn of Jurgen Windcaller.

"You took it?" I asked incredulously. My brain nagged that I sounded like Vilkas when he spoke to me, but I couldn't help it. This woman was only inches taller than me, and wearing a plain peasant woman's dress. Not to mention she looked to be in her late forties or early fifties. She didn't look capable of wielding more than a sharp tongue.

"I did," she sneered, giving a slight incline of her head, "We need to talk. Come with me."

The woman led me back across the Inn, into what seemed like her personal room. She instructed me to close the door, and I did so reluctantly. When I turned back to face her she was opening the wardrobe and I watched with interest as she pushed a false panel out of the back, revealing a set of stone steps. I warily followed her down these steps into a small room spare of much but weapon racks and a desk dominating the centre space. The woman moved to stand behind the desk, placing her palms upon its hard surface and leaning forward to survey me closely.

"The Greybeards seem to think _you're_ the Dragonborn," she stated, frowning at me. It reminded me of the way the female Legionnaire had looked at me back at Ivarstead.

"Why did you take the horn?" I demanded, crossing my arms defensively, "Why did you bring me down here?"

"I can't be too careful," she sighed heavily, closing her eyes for a moment, "Thalmor spies are everywhere. I didn't go through all this trouble on a whim; I needed to make sure it wasn't a Thalmor trap."

"You didn't go through all this trouble on a whim?" I echoed in disbelief, gaping at the woman before my mouth started up again angrily, "_You_ didn't? Do you know how much trouble _**I**_went through to find out that horn was gone and instead there was just a stupid note waiting for me?"

"I am not your enemy," the woman told me firmly, her eyes intense, "I gave you the horn, didn't I?"

"What do you want with me?" I questioned sharply, my eyes narrowing as I wondered what in Oblivion she was planning.

"I'm part of a group that's been looking for you or someone like you, at least," she explained quickly. "If you really are the Dragonborn, that is. But before I can tell you any more, I need to make sure I can trust you."

"How do I know I can trust _you_?" I countered, glaring at the woman. Her lips quirked at my question.

"You were a fool to come here in the first place if you weren't going to trust me," she told me.

"Well, why are you looking for a Dragonborn?" I asked in annoyance, my anger receding as I realised she had a point. I didn't come all this way for nothing.

"We remember what most don't. A Dragonborn is the only one who can permanently kill a dragon by devouring its soul. If you are a Dragonborn, then I need your help," she told me intensely.

"Why?" I asked her incredulously.

"You'll find out soon enough," she informed me, looking down at a map that was stretched across her table and studying it.

"What are you saying, exactly?" I asked hesitantly, unsure if I even really wanted to know where this conversation was going.

"Dragons aren't just coming back, they're coming _back to life_," she said, still looking at her map intently, "They weren't just gone somewhere for all these years, they were dead. Killed off centuries ago by my predecessors. Now something is happening and it's bringing them back to life. I intend to put a stop to it."

"What are you going to do?" I asked faintly. I hoped she wasn't really expecting me to help her.

"Haven't you been listening?" she snapped, "You have to help me stop this, by killing the dragons that are already back in Skyrim."

"Look..." I trailed off, realising I didn't know her name.

"Delphine," she informed me.

"Delphine, what makes you think the dragons are coming back? Because this sounds crazy," I told her, shaking my head.

"I know they are. I've visited some of their burial mounds and found them empty, and I have a theory about where the next one will be coming back to life. I'm going to go there, and I'm going to try and kill that dragon," she informed me casually, as if she intended to do nothing more go shopping in the market.

"And where exactly do I come into this?" I asked carefully.

"I brought you here because I needed the Dragonborn to help me," she told me, giving me a hard look, "I wasn't expecting the Dragonborn to be a child, though."

I frowned at her insult, and looked down at my boots. Was this going to be so commonplace? I wasn't a big, strong Nord, so I couldn't possibly be capable of being a hero? Did I think I was honestly capable of being a hero? _Yes_, a small voice in my mind whispered. And I believed it. So what if I didn't look the part, I had come a long way since I'd arrived in Skyrim. I'd show everyone that looked down on me that I was just as strong as Farkas, or Vilkas, or even Ulfric Stormcloak.

"I'm coming with you," I told Delphine bluntly, looking back up into her sneering face.

"Good," she nodded.

"Where are we going to find this dragon?"

"Kynesgrove." She pointed to a mark on her map that was South of Windhelm, "If we can get there before it happens, we might be able to figure out how to stop it."

"Well, let's not waste any time then," I said grimly.

It took us three days to get to Kynesgrove on horseback. Delphine proved to be businesslike in every aspect, but I didn't really feel like I wanted to know her on a personal level. Between ranting about Thalmor and ranting about dragons, I was sure I'd had enough of the older woman to last a lifetime. I hoped that when we were done with this dragon, and she had the information she needed, I could part ways with her and never see her again.

As we rode into Kynesgrove, a hysterical woman ran out to meet us. "Don't go up there!" she warned us, looking panicked, "There's a dragon attacking!" and she kept running.

I exchanged a look with Delphine before jumping down from my saddle. I would not take Lotte somewhere she might get injured. Delphine followed suit with a quizzical look, but I ignored the silent question.

"Looks like we might be too late," Delphine told me, as we set off at a jog into the town.

As I followed Delphine, I heard it. That awful roaring I'd heard in Helgen. The cry of that fearsome black dragon whose voice cut through me like a fire burning through ice. Fear gripped my heart in a way I had only experienced once before, and I stopped in my tracks as it threatened to overwhelm me. Delphine stopped a few paces ahead of me and looked at me expectantly. It took everything I had to force my legs back into action, fighting the chills running the length of my spine.

When we made it to the place the black dragon was circling, Delphine yanked me behind some large rocks and we watched in awe as the ground below the dragon started to shift. As the dirt and rocks rose, a spiral of white light shot towards the heavens. It could have been beautiful if there hadn't been a huge, skeletal dragon clawing its way out of the mound.

Instead, the effect was horrifying. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, and if Delphine hadn't had a vice grip on my arm I would have torn out of there as fast as my legs could have carried me. I chanced a glance at Delphine, and her ordinarily hard features were marred with shock. I was relieved to see she was just as shaken by the situation as I was.

When the beast had clawed its way out of the ground it turned its ugly face skyward, watching the black dragon as it circled once more, then stopped in mid air above it. The dragons started to speak to one another in their own tongue, and as they spoke scales and flesh started to regenerate on the skeletal form. I watched, frozen as the black dragon turned his deadly orange gaze upon me and spoke directly to me.

"Ful, losei Dovahkiin? Zu'u koraav nid nol dov do hi." I had no idea what it had said to me, but at his words I felt something akin to indignation stir within me. I knew I was offended by whatever he had uttered to me. I glared up into those orange eyes and stood from my position behind the rock, feeling compelled to face this dragon directly, "You do not even know our tongue, do you? Such arrogance, to dare take for yourself the name of Dovah. Sahloknir, krii daar joorre."

Both dragons rose into the air at this, circling above me. I was only half aware of Delphine at my side as the newly resurrected dragon dove at us. I heard it shout, "**YOL**!" as it flew at us. Thinking quick, I pushed Delphine to the side and rolled with her as a torrent of flames burned the ground where we had been standing moments ago. When we got our feet again, the dragon had landed and the black dragon was gone.

I didn't think about my next action, I just committed to it. Charging at the dragon wasn't the best idea, but I didn't operate with the best ideas very often. The dragon seemed to sneer at me, as I closed the distance with my blades in my hands. As I struck out with one sword, it was apparent why. The dragon's sharp teeth snapped at the blade, crushing the steel in its teeth and wrenching the weapon from my hand.

Gritting my teeth in frustration, I skidded to the side as it directed its next snap at me. Suddenly Delphine was with me, her own sword drawn as she slashed at the dragon, getting its attention off of me. It worked, if only briefly, and gave me enough time to get up closer to its head. It turned a fraction too early, and instead of piercing the side of its head, my second blade sunk into its eye.

The dragon reeled back, spewing fire at random as it scrambled away from us, taking my second blade with it.

"Give me your sword," I shouted over the furious roaring of the beast, holding my hand out expectantly.

Delphine hesitated, but passed me the blade. As soon as my hand closed around the hilt I ran after the dragon, my adrenaline carrying me. As I closed the gap the beast reared back in panic, and I saw my opportunity. I struck quickly, putting all my strength behind my arm as I forced the blade upwards into the chest of the massive dragon. As the blade sunk into the softer scales I was showered in thick, warm blood. I closed my eyes and turned my head against the spatter as the dragon shuddered against the blade. Then I realised in a moment of sheer panic the precariousness of my situation and started to scramble backwards as the weight of the dragon began to fall forward.

I just cleared out of its path as the dragon hit the ground, completely still in its death.

I knew it wasn't over, though. That insatiable pull was beckoning me to the dragon's side. Once again, I stood before the dragon as its body was encased in that eerie glow. The scales peeled away in tiny wisps of flame and danced towards me, covering every free piece of flesh they could find. The feeling of completion overwhelmed me again as the wisps of flame seeped into my very being, fulfilling some hunger within me that I didn't even know I had, giving me the life and knowledge of the dragon that I had slain. And, just like that, it was done. The dragon was nothing more than a pile of bones and I became aware of the world around me again. My eyes met Delphine's, and she looked back at me approvingly.

Delphine and I headed back into Kynesgrove, renting a room in the Braidwood Inn so we could talk privately. We sat on the edges of our beds, speaking directly now that she was certain I was the Dragonborn she had been looking for. She told me about the faction she was part of, the Blades, and how they had tried to defeat the dragons of old while helping the Dragonborn of the past. When she had filled me in on the Blades, the topic changed to one I knew very little about. The Civil War.

"The Empire had Ulfric Stormcloak, the war was almost done with, then a dragon attacks, Ulfric escapes, and the war is back on. With dragons attacking indiscriminately Skyrim is weakened. The Empire is weakened. Who else gains from that but the Thalmor?"

"So, you think the Thalmor are bringing the dragons back?" I asked slowly. It was hard to process everything she was saying. My mind was buzzing with the knowledge of the dragon I had slain, and it was sluggish at best to pick up anything else as the information scrambled around. This left me mentally exhausted, as well as physically exhausted from the battle.

I hadn't come off too bad, only minor cuts and bruises, but my bones and muscles ached from the days spent riding and then the immediate battle with the dragon. As soon as we had entered the room I had shucked my armour for some relief, and now I sat hunched over in just my smalls, modesty be damned.

"If they aren't, I'm certain they'll know who is," Delphine mused, "If only..."

"If only?" I repeated quirking a brow, looking at the older woman and willing my eyes to stay open.

"If only we could get into their Embassy, then we could find out what they know," Delphine sighed, "We're going to need to try, at least."

"That sounds like it'll be easy," I scoffed, assuming she was kidding. I lay on my side, unable to maintain the conversation for much longer, "Let's head out tomorrow morning."

"No," Delphine shook her head, "It'll take planning." That was the last thing I heard before I slipped into the pleasant world of sleep. When I awoke sometime the next afternoon, Delphine's bed was empty, her sword gone, and a note lay on her pillow.

_A-_

_Meet me in Riverwood on the 1st of First Seed._

_Keep an eye on the sky._

_-D_

The first of First Seed was a little over a month away. I frowned at the note, wondering what she would have in store for me when I next saw her. In the meantime, however, I had to return the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, and after that, I thought happily, I could return home to Jorrvaskr and see my family.


	10. Aela

**A/N: **Well, this is a late post, and I apologise for that. I have no real reason, since I didn't work yesterday and only worked three hours tonight, I've just been lazy. Sorry, guys!

**Disclaimer: **Skyrim © Bethesda

_And the tears come streaming down your face_

_When you lose something you can't replace_

_When you love someone, but it goes to waste_

_Could it be worse?_

_Coldplay - Fix You_

_**Chapter Ten - Aela**_

* * *

I couldn't contain the bubbling excitement as I passed Lotte over to the stable hand in Whiterun with a few gold pieces for her board. I had taken the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller back to the Greybeards and had left as soon as I could to come home and see my family. Even grumpy Vilkas's face would be a welcome sight. I bounded up the stone path to the city gate, trying my best not to run.

My excitement was cut short when one of the guards at the gate held out a hand to stop me. "Dragonborn," he greeted me happily. "Someone left this for you."

"Thank you," I said, looking quizzically at the letter he handed me, wondering if it might be from Delphine as he waved me through the gate. I unfolded the heavy parchment and found that the note was not from Delphine. Content aside, the elegant, sloping handwriting was far too neat to be Delphine's.

_Dragonborn,_

_I hope my letter finds you well, and before you announce your alliance with Blades to anyone publicly._

_The fact you have allied with The Blades is not something you will want to share, lest some factions get the wrong idea. Not everyone is eager for the return of the Dragonborn, and some would be even less eager to find out about her involvement with the Blades._

_Take care with who you trust, and remember what D told you of spies._

_-E_

I read and reread the letter, chewing my bottom lip as I walked slowly through the crowded street. Whoever had sent this was warning me to remember Delphine's words on spies, and the only thing I could remember her saying was that Thalmor spies were everywhere. But, we'd had that conversation in a very private area. How did this E know about it? Had they overheard us? And more importantly, why did they want me to keep a lid on my alliance with Delphine? What kind of trouble were the Blades in with the Thalmor exactly? Were the Thalmor spying on me right now?

I whipped my head around, searching the familiar faces of the Whiterun populace as I checked for any sign of Altmer within the crowd. I saw none. Shaking my head, I folded the note and slipped it into my pack carefully, continuing on my way to Jorrvaskr with a slightly more sobered mood.

"Just ignore her," Farkas muttered bracingly as Aela shouted something across the mead hall. I couldn't make out her words through the slurs, but I knew whatever she'd yelled wasn't pleasant. It had been that way since I'd walked into Jorrvaskr two days previous.

"Easy for you to say," I sighed, allowing Farkas and Athis to lead me outside, away from Aela, "She doesn't blame you."

"It's not your fault," Athis told me firmly, "You had your own things to do. You can't be expected to save everyone just because you happen to be the Dragonborn."

"But, I wasn't here," I said helplessly. Neither of them understood how I was feeling.

"It wouldn't have made a difference if you were," Farkas replied, pushing me onto one of the benches around the outside table, "Aela, Ria, and Skjor got themselves into that mess with the Silver Hands. We all warned them it wouldn't end well, even Kodlak, but they didn't listen."

"I wondered what they were up to all that time," I told them, looking between them earnestly, "If I had just asked them I could have been there. I could have helped."

"No," Farkas growled, "You didn't need to be part of that. They didn't either, and Skjor is dead because of it."

I sighed, resting my head on my arms on top of the table knowing Farkas had reached the end of his tether. Farkas got to his feet and trudged back into Jorrvaskr, leaving me and Athis alone.

"Don't worry about him," Athis frowned, "He's upset about Skjor, and even more annoyed that Aela is attacking you for it."

"I know," I replied, knowing that Farkas wasn't upset with me. I knew he was frustrated that I was upset about Aela.

"It's not your fault," Athis told me firmly, giving me a serious look. I looked up and him, my chin resting on my arms, and frowned. "It isn't. Even Vilkas is bothered about Aela blaming you."

I contemplated his words. Vilkas had been awfully quiet, but it wasn't as if we spoke much before anyway. I did have to concede that I'd seen him glaring at Aela a fair bit, and they ordinarily got along quite well.

"Who cares," I muttered finally, growing tired of the conversation, or maybe just tired of being miserable, "I'm going to bed."

It was still day light, and Athis gave me a quizzical look but didn't say anything as I pushed myself up and went inside.

It took me a long time to fall asleep. Despite my siblings support I still felt horrible about Aela's words. I felt like I should have done something, like I should have been there. Now Aela hated me, and it hurt.

I woke up through the night, I wasn't sure what time but everyone else was asleep. I could hear and smell Torvar, and I could make out Athis's outline across from me in the dark. Torvar's snoring made it impossible to fall back asleep, even without the guilt that came flooding back now that I was conscious again.

After a few hours of unsuccessful attempts at sleep I decided that maybe some fresh air would help, so I got out of my bed and donned Athis's large fur cloak before making my way up to the courtyard. It was so late I hadn't expected to find anyone outside, but when I pushed the door open as quietly as I could the first thing I saw was Aela hunched over the outside table staring pensively into a tankard of drink.

I didn't think she'd noticed me, so I tried to back away as quietly as I'd come. I should have known better, the Huntress might be drunk, but she was still a Huntress. "Can't sleep?" she asked, not taking her eyes off her drink. Her voice was strained, as if she was fighting to keep it stable.

"No," I answered quietly, hovering awkwardly by the door.

"Me either," she croaked. Her hands clenched around the tankard and her head dropped, "I haven't been able to sleep since-" the end of her sentence was cut off in a strangled sob.

I hurried over to sit next to the Nord woman, as sobs racked through her body causing her shoulders to shudder with each breath, and started to rub comforting circles on her back. It took her a while to regain some composure, and when she did we sat in silence for a while before she spoke again.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. It pained me to hear the quaver in the usually strong woman's voice, to see her look so utterly defenceless.

"Don't be," I replied softly.

"I know it's not your fault," Aela told me quietly, her voice pitching again, "You couldn't have helped him." Her hands clenched around the tankard again, her knuckles turning white in the moonlight. She turned her bloodshot eyes on me finally, and I saw a heaviness behind them of a woman who had seen many horrible things and had been forced to grow old far sooner than she should have. It made my heart break for her.

"I should have been here," I muttered, feeling guilty.

"No," Aela said firmly, "It wasn't your fight. We should never have gone. If we had listened to Kodlak, or Farkas, or Vilkas then Skjor would still be here." Tears were splashing down her cheeks again, and she closed her eyes tightly, bowing her head once again. "He'd still be with me," she whispered helplessly.

I bit my lip, a sudden and painful realisation hitting me like a ton of bricks. "You loved him, didn't you?" I asked quietly, my hand still stroking the woman's back. She nodded, her hands going to fist in her hair as the shuddering sobs took over once again. "Oh, Aela," I whispered, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and pulling her to my side. She allowed me to do so, curling into me as she cried herself out.

* * *

When he reached Kynesgrove it was quite obvious to Ralof that Artemis had been there. The tiny village was a complete mess, and the Braidwood Inn was humming with chatter from the locals about the pair of women that he shown up, killed a dragon, and then mysteriously disappeared.

"Can you tell me anything else about them?" Ralof asked the Inn Keeper, a middle aged woman with dark hair.

She looked at him, harassed, as he followed her around the inn while she picked up empty tankards. "Look," she said, stopping so that he almost walked into her, "I can't tell ya much about either of 'em. Went straight to their room, and left separately the next day."

"They left separately?" Ralof inquired, following her as she started walking back to the bar.

"Yes," she sighed in exasperation, "The old blonde left before sunrise. Young pretty one didn't leave 'til midday."

"Do you have any idea where they were heading next?" Ralof asked.

The woman pursed her lips and looked up at him from behind the bar. "Why are you so interested in them, boy?" she demanded.

"I need to speak to one of them," Ralof answered, frowning at the older woman.

"You after the pretty thing?" she smirked, "Should have known. Look, I might have something useful for ya." She ducked down and rummaged around under the bar for a moment before reappearing with a piece of paper that she held out for him. "Young one left that here."

"Thank you," Ralof nodded, accepting the piece of paper. The inn keeper disappeared as soon as he had taken the paper from her hands to attend to her regulars.

Ralof unfolded the small piece of paper and skimmed over the note. He was torn between frustration and appreciation at the content. It was a request for a meeting in Riverwood. How could Artemis just leave it lying around for anyone to pick up? At least whoever had written it had been discreet with information. It contained very little detail, other than the village and the date. The location would probably be specific to Artemis and her contact.

Luckily, the note gave him a place to wait and intercept Artemis. He would be able to stay with his sister until that time came.

* * *

Things had gotten better with Aela, she was still drunk, and she was still angry at the world. I knew she would be for a long time to come, but at least the rift between us had been fixed. I felt a new sense of camaraderie with my Shield-Sister, and I had spent much of my time with her since our conversation in the courtyard. Neither of us were taking jobs for the Companions at the time, so we spent a lot of time talking.

"Kodlak is looking for a cure," she told me as we sat alone in the midday sun. I knew she was talking about the Companions lycanthropy.

"Isn't that a good thing?" I asked, frowning, "You'll be free, won't you?"

I knew instantly that I'd made a mistake. Aela started to shake violently, and I automatically grabbed her shoulder reassuringly muttering an apology.

"It's ok," she said, letting out a shaky breath as she calmed, "I just... I couldn't give it up."

"Why?" I asked quietly, watching Aela carefully.

"Do you know about Hircine?" she asked me, looking down at her trembling hands.

"No," I responded honestly.

"Hircine is the Daedric Prince of the hunt," she explained, "He is the creator and father of the were-beasts. It is said that when one of Hircine's children die they join him in his hunting grounds for eternity. That's where Skjor is now."

"Oh," I mumbled, feeling a painful twang in my chest, "So that's where you want to go as well."

"I have to," she whispered, and I completely understood. If I ever loved someone the way Aela loved Skjor, I would do anything in my power to be with them again in the afterlife.

"Kodlak will understand," I told her, hoping that I was right.

"I don't know," Aela sighed, "He thinks the blood is a curse, and maybe it is."

I frowned, looking towards Jorrvaskr. I didn't think Kodlak would force the cure on Aela, or any of the others if they didn't want it. I hoped he wouldn't.

When I wondered up to see Eorlund about my sword Farkas accompanied me. We hadn't spent much time together, so he was instant on coming.

The old blacksmith looked at the steel disapprovingly, but told me it could be fixed easily, so I left it with him for a week. Both he and Farkas were intrigued with how I managed to do so much damage, and were shocked when I regaled them with the actual story of what had occurred with the dragon.

A week later when I picked up my sword it was good as new.

"Try not to make a habit of it, lass," Eorlund warned me, handing me the sword with an amused smile.

All too soon it was time for me to head off to Riverwood. My siblings protested my departure, but the ones that knew the reason I was leaving only asked that I come back to them in good health and wished me luck on my journey.

I hadn't told anyone about my mysterious letter, deciding I would play that one close to my chest, and I had also neglected to mention the Blades at any stage, only telling Farkas and Athis that I had a new friend who had a special mission in mind regarding the dragons. Neither of them questioned it, although both seemed to know there was more to it, but I was thankful they held their questions because I didn't want to lie to them.

Lotte was happy to see me, and I felt a pang of guilt as I realised I had made no effort to come see my newest companion while I had been in Whiterun. She didn't seem too upset though as she sniffled the top of my head. I smiled and wrapped my arms around her neck as best I could by way of an apology.

With the dappled mare, my ride into Riverwood only took a couple of hours. It was a surprisingly easy journey, and it was the first time since my first day in Skyrim that I could really appreciate the beauty of the place. It was short lived, though, as Lotte trotted into the small village of Riverwood and I was faced with the grim task of meeting Delphine.

"You're finally here," Delphine hissed in my ear almost as soon as I walked into the Sleeping Giant, "I was starting to think you'd never show up. Come on."

I gritted my teeth, containing my irritated response, as I followed the older woman down into her secret room. It was much the same as I remembered it, although there seemed to be more papers littering the large desk in the centre of the room than there had been before.

"So, what are we doing?" I asked tensely as soon as we were down in the room.

"We're going into the Thalmor Embassy," Delphine responded as business like as ever, "Or, I should say, you're going in."

"Excuse me?" I responded incredulously as she walked around her desk and started shifting papers.

"Where is it?" she muttered to herself, reading various notes, until she seemed to find what she was looking for and held up a paper as if it should mean something to me, "Aha, this is it. I have a connection in Solitude, a Wood Elf named Malborn. He works in the Embassy, and he was kind enough to let me know they're planning a party."

"A party?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. It seemed like an odd announcement to me.

"Yes, the Thalmor have parties quite often. They only invite the most prominent people in Skyrim, a way of reminding the people who's in charge I think. Anyway, we need to get you into that party."

"That should be easy, shouldn't it?" I asked, "I am the Dragonborn." Surely if there was a prominent title to hold it was Dragonborn, and both sides of the Civil War were chasing me at any rate.

"I don't think that will win you any favours with the Thalmor," Delphine replied grimly, "No, we can't use that one on this occasion. The less the Thalmor know about you, the better."

"So how am I supposed to get in then?" I frowned at Delphine, feeling like this mission wasn't going to end well.

"That's for you and Malborn to figure out," Delphine said dismissively, "You'll have to meet him in Solitude and talk it over, I'm sure he'll be able to think of something."

"You're not coming?" I asked, my frown only deepening. How was I going to do this without Delphine? This was her idea. I'd be happy to not even try.

"No, the Thalmor and I aren't on good terms. I'd rather not go anywhere near Solitude if I can help it."

"So, I'm just supposed to figure this out for myself?" I asked, feeling very apprehensive about the situation.

"With Malborn's help you'll do fine," Delphine told me, "What's important is when you get into the Embassy, you have to make sure you find a way into Elenwen's personal office. I'm positive that's where you'll find the information we need."

"_If_ I get into the Embassy," I sniffed. Delphine fixed me with a glare that said all too clearly that if I didn't get into the Embassy I may as well skip Skyrim. "But, what's the worst that can happen?" I laughed nervously under her glare.

"I'd rather not think about it," Delphine sighed, "Good luck."

* * *

Ralof waited patiently in Riverwood, working at his sister's mill, for the Dragonborn to show up in the village. She didn't disappoint him. He had been keeping an eye on the stone bridge into the village, and he saw her cross it from the distance in the early afternoon on the first of First Seed, just as requested.

He watched from the small isle as Artemis tied her steed outside the Sleeping Giant, momentarily distracted by the way the sun hit her dark hair. When she started up the steps for the tavern he was brought back to reality.

"Hod," he called, leaning his axe against the stump upon which he had been chopping wood and wiping his sweaty brow on the back of his hand, "I'm going to see Orgnar about a drink."

Hod made a non-committal noise in response, waving him away from the top of the mill. Ralof wasted no time trudging across the rickety wooden bridge and walking the short distance up the main street to the Sleeping Giant. As he walked he considered what he could say to convince Artemis to at least come and see Ulfric in Windhelm. Maybe he could throw out the 'you owe me your life' card, but he didn't want to have to do that. He didn't consider himself to be that low.

Without any real idea of what he was going to say, but still eager to talk to Artemis, Ralof entered the tavern. He was more than confused when his eyes swept across the clientèle and she was nowhere to be seen. He was sure she was in here; her horse was still tied out front.

He frowned as he made his way up to the bar where Orgnar was waiting with a welcoming grin.

"Afternoon, lad," Orgnar said gruffly, already pulling the stopper from a bottle of ale for him.

"Afternoon, Orgnar," Ralof returned distractedly, accepting the ale and taking a swig as his eyes did a recount of the people inside the tavern.

"Looking for someone?" Orgnar asked knowingly, leaning forward on his elbows.

"How did you know?" Ralof smirked, turning back to the barman.

"I know everything," Orgnar joked, causing them both to laugh, "Real pretty thing? Dark hair? Walked in here not long before you did?"

"That'd be the one," Ralof confirmed, waiting for Orgnar to reveal her secret location.

"Figured she'd catch your eye," the barman winked, "She's talking to the old girl right now."

"You mean Delphine?" Ralof asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

"Aye," Orgnar nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. It was common knowledge he was protective of the tavern's owner.

"Hm," Ralof hummed to himself thoughtfully, taking another swig of his ale. He wouldn't ask Orgnar any questions, because he knew he wouldn't get any answers from the barman. Instead, he contented himself with waiting for Artemis to come back into the main area of the tavern so he could speak to her.

A short time later Artemis did come out of Delphine's room, but Ralof noticed the deep scowl on her face. She didn't even notice him as she stalked towards the exit, and Ralof was so caught off guard that it was a couple of seconds before his brain kicked in. By that time, Artemis had already stormed out of the tavern, and by the time Ralof had hurried after her she was riding across the stone bridge back out of the village.


End file.
